


Entanglement

by Aearyn



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angry Sex, Dancing/Ballet, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Love Triangles, NSFW, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 60,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aearyn/pseuds/Aearyn
Summary: This story is set a few weeks after the "party" in Mystic Messenger. There is no 'route' that was taken, really; no one romanced during the timeline of the game, and several outcomes were merged to create this 'worldstate'. V's eyes are on the mend, after surgery that Zhara (OC) and Jumin finally convinced him to get. Rika was discovered and apprehended, and is currently in a mental facility. Yoosung visits her a lot, but she doesn't talk. Zen and Jaehee...are kind of considering being a thing. Seven and Saeran have disappeared for a bit but it's nothing bad (they're ok, don't worry!). You'll see Jumin and Jihyun's relationship with Zhara as it unfolds.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so please note some things. This may undergo further editing, but I've already written so much I figured I should post the first part, at least. This fic is dark - if you just want fluff, this is not the fic for you. There also may be different content warnings in later chapters; I will try to post that in the chapter notes up front as a warning.  
> *Oh, and for any dancers that randomly may happen to read this....I am SO sorry for my awful and vague descriptions of dancing. Honestly that goes for anyone lol.*

Zhara closed her eyes as she floated across the stage, the strains of a Yann Tiersen piece resonating throughout the tiny theater. She let her body take her where it would, her soul reverberating with the music and guiding her limbs one way, then another. She would get to the real routine later – now she was just warming up, and didn’t have to worry about choreography or technicalities.

She moved with unstudied grace and abandon, motions echoing the wistfulness of the music, the bittersweet notes she was always drawn to, that sad current that ran below the whimsical melody.

As the song drew to a close, she found herself bent double, pale red hair coming loose from its bun, hands behind her legs, resting on her ankles. Slowly she stood, taking time to stretch every muscle, reaching toward the ceiling, and—

“If that is what you are hiding, it’s no wonder you practice in this abandoned theater.”

Zhara nearly stumbled backwards, and only years of ingrained balance allowed her to stand upright, although she couldn’t restrain a little squeak of shock.

Jumin sat in the third row of seats, just inside the light circle of the stage lamps.

“Hmm. That may have come out wrong,” he continued, his deep voice strangely compelling in the darkness of the theater. “I should say—”

“What are you _doing_ here!” she interrupted him, and suddenly registered what he’d said…it was no wonder he felt the need to reword his insult. “And I’m not hiding!”

“I didn’t mean that you—”

“Answer my question!” She didn’t want to hear his half-hearted attempts to be polite.

He cleared his throat. “It’s not as if you own this theater,” he replied with uncharacteristic sarcasm.

“I’m well aware of that, Mr. Han,” she said with a slight curl of her lip. “But no one else has had any interest in it, least of all you, considering it can’t make you any money!”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he replied, calm as ever, regardless of her attitude. “And since you insist on interrogating me about it, I do, in fact, own it. And it seems I might be allowed to inspect my own property, wouldn’t you agree?”

His mild tone almost caused her to miss the import of what he’d said.

She stared at him. “What do you mean…you own it?”

“I purchased it from the previous owners, who seemed content to let it fall into disrepair, and Jaehee is even now working on a business plan for—”

“Why the hell would you do that?” She knew she was practically yelling, but at this point she didn’t care.

He’d asserted his financial superiority one too many times. This was _her_ place – no, not technically hers, but no one else cared about it, and it was the only place she could be alone, without the snide judgments of other dancers, the idiotic questions about her training, her credentials, and what in the world type of ‘dancing’ she was even doing.

“I just said—”

“I know what you said!” She came down off the stage, and walked on her toes across the two rows of seats between her and Jumin. She stood over him – odd that he hadn’t stood up yet, normally he was, at least on the surface, polite.

“You made a cold, passionless statement about a place that I consider sacred! This is my refuge, and you’re going to take it away just because…the mood struck you? Why would you even take an interest in this place? You wouldn’t even have known about it had Zen and I not discussed it in the chat!”

Now, slowly, he stood. “I am sorry you think me…passionless,” he said irrelevantly, and her brow lowered further. Trust him to pick up the part of her statement that mattered the least. “I have my reasons.”

“God! I wish we’d never mentioned it! Now I suppose you want me to stop practicing here? Are you going to turn it into some…boutique cat theater or something? Whatever it is I’m sure it’s too fancy for me!”

“On the contrary, you may continue using it as you have been.”

Something in his voice made her eyes narrow. They were too close – she could feel heat radiating off him. Away from the lights, and now being still after having danced for twenty minutes, she felt a chill tickling her skin…except where it almost touched his.

Disconcerted, she backed up a step.

He followed – nonchalantly, a shifting of his stance, nothing more. She was imagining that he leaned forward. Imagining, too, that his eyes were a little more heavy-lidded than usual. God damn him for having such pretty eyes…of course he’d win the genetic lottery as well as the financial and social one…

She looked away hastily, her cheeks burning. “What do you mean.” She’d lost her bravado; the change she perceived in him distracted her from the flames of her anger.

“I mean, I hope to see you continue to use this theater for your…dancing.”

Her hazel eyes were dragged back to his, seemingly against her will. “I…”

What should she say? What could he possibly mean by saying ‘dancing’ in that tone of voice?

Her eyes widened with confusion when his hand came up to brush a tendril of sweat-dampened hair from her face.

Was Jumin Han…flirting with her?

Before she could even process this thought, his lips lightly brushed hers, his fingers still resting against her cheek.

A bolt of lightning could not have shocked her more; a noise crept up from somewhere in her throat, halfway between a question and sigh.

Only a few short seconds passed before he pulled away, looking as bewildered as she felt.

His expression quickly shifted to one of frustration, almost anger. She, on the other hand, still couldn’t form a coherent thought.

“I…I apologize, I don’t…” He ran a hand through his hair and took a step away from her. Then two.

“I have to go.”

She blinked, unable to answer, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

The slamming of the back door seemed to snap her back to the world of the living.

“That son of a bitch!”

***

Zhara avoided Jumin in the messenger for several days. She silenced his calls; when he joined the chat, she would leave. Jaehee and Zen asked her what was wrong via text, but she insisted it was just coincidence – she was busy with translating work, didn’t have much time to talk.

She was secretly a little miffed that Jaehee had known about Jumin’s purchase of the theater, and hadn’t mentioned it to her. But more importantly…

After Jumin left that night, a flood of emotions washed over Zhara with the strength of a hurricane.

He’d seen her dancing. She wasn’t ashamed of it, but she normally didn’t allow just anyone to see her dancing like _that_. All emotion and no control. She felt like he’d seen her naked. Her shock and anger had overridden her embarrassment at the time, but once those had died down she had plenty of time to nurse a full-body blush so hot she thought she might burn to ashes.

And why had he bought the theater? Why come there while she was practicing? Even if he wanted to inspect it, he could have left once he realized it was occupied. And why buy it and then just…let her keep using it? It made no sense. Jumin Han didn’t do things haphazardly, there had to be a point to all this, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it was.

And then…the kiss…

The most perplexing thing of all. She would never in a million years have thought him to be attracted to her; on the contrary, he seemed determine to annoy her at every turn, push all her buttons, even condescend to her on occasion. But kiss her? Absolutely out of the question.

And yet…had she hated it?

With brutal honesty she admitted to herself that she’d felt…something. Well, rather a lot of somethings.

Her heart had thrown itself aggressively at her rib cage. What felt like electricity danced across her skin, and when she recalled her reaction, she remembered raising a hand, to—to what? To embrace him?

She could only be glad he’d pulled away and left when he did. She could acknowledge she found Jumin physically attractive – how could one not? He was handsome, tall, well-muscled, and those eyes—

Well, no need to revisit all his charms; the problem was, physical charms were all he had. His personality sadly left quite a lot to be desired.

But what did any of it mean? What could he have been thinking – she’d heard him and their mutual friends state on more than one occasion that he basically wasn’t attracted to women, had no desire to be in a relationship.

Then again…

Maybe…she’d interpreted all that the wrong way. Or hadn’t seen the full picture.

Perhaps what he really meant by his comments was that he wasn’t interested in anything serious with women…

That didn’t preclude more carnal pleasures.

Perhaps…seeing her dancing…he’d assumed that she…

Zhara made a strangled noise and tossed her notebook across the room. She stood up and walked back and forth in the apartment – her one concession to someone of greater means. But she’d only accepted Jihyun’s offer to stay here because she knew he meant it as a friend; not to mention it was easier to do the RFA’s work here….and it meant she didn’t have to take as many translating gigs.

This was the real reason she was avoiding him – she couldn’t bear how he must see her. On the one hand, she was incensed that he would think her expression of art was some sort of…lascivious display. Regardless of the brevity of the clothes she wore when practicing – they weren’t _that_ revealing, and her dancing wasn’t _that_ provocative. It was merely his lewd thoughts that he’d projected onto her.

On the other hand, the hand she refused to examine closely, she wasn’t fond of the idea that Jumin thought even more lowly of her than he had before. Not that she cared about his opinion, of course.

She was too worked up to get any translating work done; she decided to go for a run, try to exercise out her anger.

The feeling of Jumin’s lips brushing hers flashed through her mind, and she decided perhaps a cold shower when she returned would also not be amiss.

***  
  
An hour later she was standing under a stream of ice-cold water, willing her teeth not to chatter.

This was ridiculous; running always helped her calm down, but it hadn’t quite done the trick this time. She shook her head and turned off the water; turning herself into a meat popsicle was perhaps not the best plan either.

Just as she stepped out of the bathroom, she heard a knock at the door.

She froze. Jihyun? Normally he called ahead of time if he needed to come over for any reason. Besides, he was out of town for a few more days. And the others never really came here…

“Who is it?”

“Jumin.”

Seriously? As if she hadn’t just spent all her energy and her body temperature trying to get him off her mind, now he showed up at the door.

“Go away.” She didn’t stop to consider how rude she was being before she spoke, and blinked at herself. But he deserved it, if he thought—

“I will not. You’re avoiding me, and I would like to speak with you.”

Why was he always so goddamn calm!

“Well avoiding someone is a universal signal that they don’t want to talk to _you_ , but maybe that’s a commoner thing,” she called.

“Zhara, I have the code to the door. Either you open it for me or I will come in regardless.”

She made a rather unladylike squeaking noise. “No! Just…just hold on! Dammit…”

She scrambled around, yanking underwear out of a drawer, pulling clothes haphazardly from her closet.

There was nothing to be done about her wet hair, nor did he deserve to have her worry about it. She grabbed her brush from the bathroom as she headed back to the front door.

She turned the two locks and threw the door open, and immediately turned and walked back to the living room, brushing her hair as she went. She heard the door close behind him, but refused to look at him.

“I’m sorry if I’ve interrupted your shower.”

“I was just getting out when you arrived. What do you want, Jumin?” She rounded on him.

He sighed, and this time she did look at him, putting down her brush, her hair dripping into her shirt.

He seemed…confused, still. Which was unlike him. Had she misjudged him? But what other explanation was there for the situation?

“Jumin…”

His steely grey eyes met her golden ones. “First of all…I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day. You haven’t answered my calls and you won’t speak to me on the messenger, so I had to come here to say it.”

She blinked. He was…apologizing? Oh.

“Umm. Thank you, I…”

“I find myself in the unfamiliar position of…wishing you weren’t angry with me, quite _all_ the time.”

“I…I’m not angry with you all the time, just…”

“Most of the time.”

She cleared her throat and looked away. Him being sincere, polite…this was not what she’d girded herself to deal with. She wasn’t prepared.

“But at the moment I can’t really blame you – I certainly managed to do something perfectly calculated to incur your ire.”

She bit her lip; but when he opened his mouth to speak again, she cut him off.

“That’s not why I’m angry, Jumin. I mean, it is, but…it’s complicated.”

“I have gathered that _you_ are perhaps more complicated than I previously realized.”

Her eyebrows shot up. Was that an insult, or a compliment? She couldn’t tell.

“I’m angry because of _why_ you did it. You think I’m….I’m _easy_ or something, just because you saw me dancing, but that’s not the dancing that I show to people, Jumin, you weren’t supposed to—”

“I do not in the least think that you are easy, Zhara. In fact I find you infuriatingly difficult.”

The wryness of his tone increased her bewilderment, but she shook her head at his misunderstanding. “I mean you think I’m a…a floosy!” she felt stupid using such a term, but apparently she had to spell it out for him.

He stepped closer, reminding her forcefully of his movements the other night, but this time she didn’t back away.

“I in no way think you are a…floosy,” he insisted quietly, a little frown between his brows. “If that is why you think I…I kissed you, you are mistaken.”

Why was she so breathless? She took a deep breath to calm down, but only succeeded in drawing his gaze downward. “Am I?”

His eyes met hers again, and he reached out – slowly, as if to avoid startling her – and gently swept her wet hair back behind her shoulders. “You’re getting your shirt wet,” he said softly, and she glanced down to see that indeed her dripping hair had soaked right through her shirt…

And the lace of her bra was clearly visible.

Her eyes went wide, and red stained her cheeks. If she was trying to convince him she was virtuous she was doing a terrible job.

Then again, here he was telling her he hadn’t kissed her because he’d been trying to initiate any sexual overtures, and yet he was staring at her chest.

Her nostrils flared, and perversely, she crossed her arms under her breasts, trying not to smile at how his eyes widened slightly. It was his own fault for provoking her.

She’d barely thought this before she found herself with her back to the living room wall, with Jumin – very warm, and very insistent -  pressed against her.

Then he was kissing her again, and god help her, she knew she should push him away, slap him even, but she just…couldn’t…

Her hands ran up his back of their own volition; when she felt his tongue touch her lips she parted them with a little whimper—

What was she doing! _Stop kissing him back, dammit, you hate Jumin! You hate him!!_

The pounding of her heart soon drowned out these remonstrances, and when his hand crept around to the small of her back, pulling her against him—

Her tiny moan hummed against his lips, and a little noise escaped him as well…

That nearly undid her. For Jumin to be, himself, on the verge of losing control…

After what could have been five seconds or five years, he pulled back, practically gasping, his hand still against the wall by her head.

“I—”

“Don’t apologize, Jumin. Not this time,” she interrupted breathlessly. He stared at her, his steel grey eyes dark and liquid. She swallowed. “If you’re…not doing this because you think I’ll sleep with you easily, then tell me why.”

She wasn’t sure if that’s what she’d meant to say, or how she’d even managed to make a coherent sentence when every cell in her body was on fire. But she was glad she’d asked him. But what would his answer be?

He seemed to search for it in her eyes, his confusion apparent in his face.

“Because…you make me… _feel_ ,” he finally spoke, in a near whisper.

For one moment, all her dislike of his arrogance, his upbringing, his money, his attitude, faded, and her heart clenched at the idea that _feeling_ was so foreign to him. Suddenly she needed, fiercely, to encourage this reaction in him, feed this emotion, this vulnerability, this sincerity and openness.

Tentatively, she reached a hand up, and laid it against his cheek. His brows drew together further, but he didn’t pull away; almost as if it pained him for someone to show him a little tenderness.

Perhaps she’d been unfair to him; people weren’t just what they appeared on the surface. Maybe, if she could get through that shell, Jumin had a soft side like everyone else…

He stood back, putting a few inches’ space between them, and she dropped her hand, hoping what she’d seen in him wouldn’t fade as soon as he came to his senses.

But when he opened his eyes, although he seemed a little more collected, he still wore a look of….consideration, contemplation. A start, perhaps?

“Zhara…would you consider…going to dinner with me?”

***  
  
She still didn’t know if this was a good idea. What if they ended up fighting halfway through dinner because he managed to be condescending about her wine choice? What if she found out all the soft spots she thought she’d glimpsed were merely reflections of her own weak self? What if—

But it was too late now; he would be here in a few minutes, and she’d committed, she had to go through with it. At least this time; if he was an ass, then there wouldn’t be a second date, and she could put her imaginings to rest.

But he did seem a little…different. Less curt with her, perhaps. Certainly the time or two she’d talked to him on the phone or via text, he’d been less harsh.

She’d begun talking more in the messenger since Jumin came over, and she wondered if the others could feel the current of electricity that arced between them any time they were both in the chat room.

_Probably not, idiot – since there is no such thing. Calm down._

She rolled her eyes at herself as she closed the clasp on her earrings, then stepped back and looked into the mirror.

She’d actually styled her long, pale red hair – which she normally kept in a braid of some sort, or a bun – and it was swept to one side and over her shoulder.

Jumin had said he’d take her somewhere that wasn’t “too fancy for her”, a statement that previously would have incurred her wrath, but the almost playful tone in which he spoke it this time only made her purse her lips on a smile.

So she’d dressed appropriately, she hoped, in tailored navy shorts, a lacy white shirt, and strappy wedges – she occasionally enjoyed putting her dancer’s legs on display, and felt this was the perfect occasion for it. Well, she’d see what Jumin thought of it as soon as she opened the door.

As if on cue, she heard his knock.

His reaction was even better than she’d hoped. When she threw the door open, his eyes took in her whole outfit, hair, makeup – which she also rarely wore – and he blinked. Then swallowed.

“Wow,” he breathed, and then she swore she saw a blush tint his cheeks. “I mean, you look very nice, my apologies.” He seemed to make an effort to reassert his usual calm tone of voice.

She laughed delightedly, and he couldn’t hide a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth as she motioned him inside.

Suddenly he seemed to remember what was in his hands, at the same time that she noticed it.

“Oh, I remembered you said once you didn’t like to receive flowers that would just die, so I…brought you this instead. I hope I didn’t misremember that, or I may have ruined this already…”

He held out a little glass globe, about the size of a grapefruit. A delicate chain hung from the top of it, and inside were several tiny succulents.

For a second she could only stare, her hands over her mouth. “I can’t believe you remembered that…” she mumbled, and then gingerly reached out to take it from him.

He cleared his throat. “It’s just…it’s nothing, but I figured you—”

She looked him in the eye, hoping he could feel her sincerity. “Thank you, Jumin. Really. I love it.”

She knew just where to put it – there was a hook in the living room, in the corner next to the couch, where someone had previously hung something from the ceiling. But of course, she couldn’t reach the hook, even with these shoes on – and said shoes made it a little impractical for her to stand on the couch—

Then Jumin was there, taking the chain from her hands, and she supported the little globe as he reached up – even he had to stand on tiptoe to reach the ceiling – and slid the chain over the hook.

She stood back, and a small smile graced her lips as she watched the little sphere turning lazily on its chain, the tiny plants inside nestled into their bed of gravel. She had a ridiculous desire to hug Jumin, and firmly suppressed it.

Now that she got a good look at him, she realized…

“Wow is right,” she murmured.

Standard Jumin was a suit, a pinstripe shirt of some sort, and a tie – all expensive, designer duds, of course.

But tonight, probably due to the more casual nature of wherever they were going, he’d dressed down, which she’d never in their acquaintance seen him do. He was wearing a thin grey sweater over an oxford shirt – with the top button undone, and the hem untucked.

God. Damn.

“You don’t like it do you? I feel half dressed, perhaps I should go back by my apartment and change into—”

“Jumin. No.”

He squinted at her. “Are you sure? This was in that idiotic Playboy magazine, and I was afraid it was too much, but the article was very convincing—”

“Believe me. I like it.”

“Oh.” Again she thought she saw a dusting of pink on his face. How unutterably unexpected – and adorable.

Jumin Han? Adorable? The apocalypse must be nigh, she thought wryly.

“Shall we?” she asked, mostly to prevent herself saying anything ridiculous (or too sincere) to him.

Not only had he remembered her comment about flowers, but when they got downstairs, the car waiting for him was not the huge limo he normally rode in. There was a driver – expecting Jumin to drive them would have been really excessive, she knew that – but it was just…a nice car. Big, shiny, very fancy on the inside, but still. In her opinion, it was a step up.

And more importantly, he’d done it specifically because he knew she would hate to ride around with him in the limo like some sort of escort.

Once they were in the back seat, before she could lose her nerve, she took Jumin’s hand, and kissed the back of it, rather playfully, but she knew he could see the seriousness in her eyes.

“I need to apologize, this time, Jumin.”

He tilted his head.

“I’m not saying…we’re magically going to start agreeing on everything, but…” she gave him a little shove when he chuckled, “Hush. I just…I appreciate this. Everything you’re doing. And I feel like I misjudged you, before. And I’m sorry.”

“I believe that apology could go both ways,” he replied, his tone contemplative. “Perhaps…we can start over, and this time I will attempt to refrain from being ‘that condescending ice prince Jumin’.”

Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god! I thought you hadn’t read the chats after I said that…dammit…” She’d been complaining to Zen about something Jumin said, and she’d felt a little bad about saying it in the chat where everyone could see, but then consoled herself with the assurance that Jumin wouldn’t bother to go back and look at her words the next time he signed on.

She sighed. “And I’ll try not to be…well, I don’t think you’ve called me any choice insults—”

“Not in the messenger, at least,” he interrupted, and she gasped with indignation. Then she saw that quirk at the corner of his mouth again, and realized he was teasing her.

“Alright, I deserved that!” Dammit that little smile was cute… _focus, Zhara!_ “Anyway, I’ll try not to assume you’re being rude and arrogant. Deal?”

He nodded solemnly, and then took her hand. “Deal.” But instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips. Any teasing light had gone out of his eyes, which he kept on hers as he placed a kiss not on her knuckles, but on the inside of her wrist.

Her insides immediately turned to liquid; her breath caught, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away even had she wanted to. Those eyes of his, like pools of mercury she could easily get lost in…

“Mr. Han, there appears to be an accident between here and the restaurant.” The driver’s voice from the front seat was like ice water on her hot skin. She pulled her hand away a little too quickly, disconcerted.

“And I need to know this because…?”

Ah. There it was, Jumin’s usual tone of voice. “ _How dare you inconvenience me,”_ it seemed to say. Zhara closed her eyes for a second, and then turned her gaze out the window.

“I’m sorry sir, I just thought you would want to be aware that we might not make it to the restaurant in time for your reservation.”

Jumin was silent for a moment, and Zhara expected some other cutting remark, likely castigating the driver for daring to be slowed by someone else’s accident…

“It’s no problem, Mr. Kim. Perhaps there’s another way round?”

“S-sir?”

“I’m sure they’ll hold the reservation. It’s nothing to worry over.”

“Yes sir.”

Zhara turned slowly back to her companion in the back seat.

Jumin’s expression came just short of patting himself on the back, it was so self-congratulatory.

Zhara snorted, but couldn’t help smiling; he could afford to be smug over it – after all, that was a big change of attitude, for him.

When he saw her smiling, though, his face turned almost bashful, and he gave a little cough and looked out the window.

God in heaven. She was in trouble.

***  
  
A few hours later – two martinis and a margarita later, as Zhara would have measured it – she and Jumin strolled across a picturesque walking bridge near the restaurant. The moon and stars reflected like diamonds on the calm waters below, the mirror image only gently disturbed by the koi that darted occasionally toward the surface.

They stopped in the center – miraculously the only people on the bridge, although it was getting late – and a light breeze eddied across the water. Zhara shivered – her lacy shirt was not really meant for nighttime walks.

“Hmm. Perhaps you should have brought a jacket—oh!” Zhara watched, perplexed, as Jumin stood back, and carefully peeled his sweater off, then handed it to her.

She knew she was gaping, her mouth open like a fish, but she couldn’t manage any other expression.

“Did I do it wrong?” he asked, seeming more curious than dismayed. “I don’t have a jacket, so I can’t give you that, but that’s what the article said—”

“Jumin,” she practically gasped, then swallowed and started over, even as she took the sweater from him, and started putting it on. “Have you been reading articles about how to take a girl on a date? Are you serious right now?”

He peered at her. “Have I correctly followed the advice?”

She laughed aloud. “Yes, you’re doing amazing, to be honest.”

“Ah! Per..fect…” he trailed off as she straightened the sweater – not ridiculously huge on her, but definitely big, one shoulder hanging off a bit, the hem reaching to within an inch of the bottom of her shorts.

“Do I look ridiculous? I don’t care, I’m toasty now—”

His mouth covered hers, preventing whatever else she might have been about to say.

For several minutes all she was aware of was his warm body, his roaming hands, the softness of his lips, the searching of his tongue…

His hand crept beneath the sweater, and beneath her shirt, coming to rest on her bare back, and a little whimper fell from her lips to be swallowed by his kisses. Her own hands explored his firm back, his surprisingly muscular arms – she had no complaints now about his expensive shirts, this one was so soft it only enhanced the warm skin beneath it…

Suddenly a horrible though struck her, and against every inclination she pushed him back.

“Jumin…Jumin we can’t, not out here—”

He backed away slightly, that crease appearing between his brows. “Why? Are you…worried about your reputation? I apologize, I—”

“No, idiot, I’m worried about yours!” she whispered fiercely. “How do you know there aren’t paparazzi hanging out across the corner, just waiting to get a picture of Director Han and his new plaything!”

 “Do not refer to yourself as a plaything!” he retorted angrily, but suddenly his look turned a bit guilty. “There are no reporters. I promise.”

“Jumin…”

He looked away. “I sent guards around the perimeter of this park. For specifically that purpose.”

She knew her reaction was contrary – she’d _just_ advised him she was worried about his reputation – but she felt as if she’d been slapped. Of course he would protect himself – he wouldn’t want anyone doing exactly what she’d mentioned, bandying his name and hers about as if they were together. She was far too low-class for him to be seen with. “I see.” She stepped back, smoothed her hair, and turned back toward the restaurant.

“It’s getting late – I should get back,” she murmured, trying her best to sound nonchalant, even as she pulled off his sweater and held it out to him.

He took it, albeit with a deep sigh, and slowly caught up to her. They walked back to the car, and endured the half hour ride back to her apartment in silence.

He insisted on walking her to her door; she supposed it would be churlish to refuse him.

But when they got to there, he put his hand against the wall, and gently but firmly turned her around. Something about that stance…did things to her insides…although she wasn’t sure why.

“Zhara, I didn’t—”

“It doesn’t matter, Jumin. It’s fine.”

“Will you _stop_ interrupting me?” He didn’t seem angry, only exasperated.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, golden eyes fixed on the floor.

“I know you think I shouldn’t throw my money around, and maybe it was frivolous to do what I did, but I…”

Frivolous? That wasn’t what concerned her…

“I really don’t like the idea of the papers getting a hold of your information.”

Her head jerked up. What?

“I’ve been dealing with that nonsense since I was a child, it doesn’t really bother me. But you…your name, your character, is unsullied. I would hate for the press to start ugly rumors about you. So I hope you forgive me for my flagrant use of C&R resources—”

“Jumin! I—” she saw he was about to object to her cutting him off again, and rather than waste more time with words, she threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

His surprised grunt made her smile against his mouth. When she pulled away after a moment, his eyes remained closed, but he still managed to look bemused.

“Once again, I misjudged you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, and I’ll try harder to avoid it in the future. Thank you for looking out for me.” She kissed him again, briefly, and then turned to finish opening the door.

“I…hope you enjoyed tonight as much as I did,” she said quietly as she stepped inside the door. He seemed incapable of answering, and she smiled softly as she started pushing the door shut.

“Goodnight, Jumin.”

“Goodnight,” she thought she heard him whisper as she closed the door behind her.

***  
  
She tossed and turned, confusion following her to bed, and then into her dreams. Fantastic ones where Jumin did all sorts of naughty things to her were followed closely by horrifying ones where he disavowed any knowledge of her in front of a hundred reporters, and sneered about how she wasn’t good enough to lick his boots.

The clock on her phone read 4:12 when she woke up for the fifth time in a hot sweat, the memory of Jumin’s hands on her – and his fingers _in_ her – so fresh in her mind she could almost feel them in reality.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a dream like that; so dirty, and so vivid.

Maybe she just needed to release the tension; it was obvious that she found Jumin attractive, and they’d kissed several times…her body was just starved, and her subconscious was taking it out on her dreams.

For some reason the first thing that popped into her mind as she slid her panties down her legs, was that day at the theater, when he’d shown up unannounced…

What if, instead of just kissing her, he’d decided to…teach her a lesson? She ruthlessly stamped down the rational part of her brain that attempted to make her feel guilty for indulging these fantasies. She had needs, after all, and that’s all these imaginings were – a means to an end.

_His hand tight in her hair, he’d bend her over the row of seats, ripping off the little shorts she wore while dancing…_

_Murmuring instructions to her in that deep voice of his, he’d slide in, deep – deeper…_

_Her cries echoing in the cavernous space, he would thrust into her until she—_

Zhara made a little noise of pleasure as she came, her hips jerking, heat pulsing against her fingers.

After a moment to catch her breath, she sat up in bed.

What. The _fuck_. Was that.

Had she just…imagined Jumin roughly taking her over the back of a seat in an abandoned theater??

What was wrong with her! Clearly she was even more deprived (and possibly _depraved_ ) than she’d realized…

Time for another cold shower.

***  
  
They went on two more dates over the next week, and Zhara found it harder and hard to resist him – not that he was pressuring her. But the magnitude of her attraction to him surprised her, and it was at the end of the second date that she realized the cause.

She’d been able to dismiss any physical draw she’d felt to him before because his personality was so off-putting to her. But now that he was opening up, if only slightly…now that he was making an effort to please her, be kind to her – and even more devastatingly, kind to others – she didn’t have her shield of dislike to hide behind anymore. The result was catastrophic; had she always been a little in love with him and she just didn’t realize it?

Impossible.

On their third date, she told him a little about her mother. Haltingly, still concerned at what his reaction might be, although she was determined that she would not try to curry his favor by glossing over unflattering details.

At first, he seemed perturbed. Not, he assured her, that he thought _she_ had any designs on his money; she’d made it plain enough she had no interest in that – the opposite in fact (she felt perversely glad that he’d taken her disdain of his affluence seriously) – and besides that, he was the last person to assume someone would turn out just like their parent. Look at the disparity between himself and his own father…romantically, at least.

But he seemed to be having trouble reconciling what she said with his own experience.

“It is…difficult, if not impossible, to believe that women like Glam Choi are just…humans, trying to find love and make ends meet,” he muttered doubtfully, swirling his expensive Bordeaux in its big glass.

“Well, to be honest, that’s difficult even for me, at least with Glam Choi,” she admitted, speaking the woman’s name with distaste. “I’m not saying that everyone is without ulterior motives – obviously that would be naïve.”

“Quite.”

“But,” she insisted, glaring at him, “you have to consider that your father is also using these women for something. Why do you think he’s constantly moving on to the next one? It’s unlikely that they’re giving up their spot in the sun so easily, is it not?”

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m saying that your father is getting what he wants from them, as well, and then casting them aside when something shinier comes along.”

She hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but she couldn’t help it; her mother was almost literally one of those women that Chairman Han had cast off, long ago. A different Chairman, perhaps, but the same type. Always on the lookout for someone younger, prettier, sweeter, more biddable…

“I would thank you not to speak of my father in that tone of voice,” Jumin replied curtly.

Zhara sighed and looked away. Again, he was completely missing the point.

“But…,” he continued, surprising her, “I will try…to consider what you have said. Perhaps my view of things is too one sided.”

She blinked. “R-really?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Am I that stubborn, that you are so shocked? Hmm, perhaps you shouldn’t answer that.” He looked away again with that little quirk to his lips that she’d come to so enjoy.

“If I think back to most of my father’s…female friends, shall we say, the majority of them were…cloying, insincere panderers.”

Zhara gave him a dry look; if he was trying to explain that he could be flexible in his opinions, he wasn’t being very convincing…

“But there were a couple…who seemed more honest and genuine. Unfortunately…those lasted even less time than the rest. I cannot fathom why my father would prefer the former over the latter, but…I can’t say he and I have ever understood one another on matters of relationships.”

“I suppose that’s something we actually have in common,” Zhara mused, chuckling without much humor. “My mother would pass up on admirers that were kind and…and normal, just to date another rich asshole again…and it wasn’t as if we were poor; not by then, at least…”

He tilted his head, peering at her intently, and she blushed and looked away. She hadn’t meant to tell him that; no need for him to be determining her worth based on her mother’s financial beginnings….

“I’m sorry if I have been insensitive,” he finally said, and Zhara wondered for the umpteenth time how so much change could have come over him in the few months since they’d met.

“Sorry for being insensitive? The Jumin Han I thought I knew would never have “wasted emotion” on something like that…” she marveled.

“Have I offended you again?”

“No, on the contrary, it’s…nice of you to be concerned. Thank you. But I’m not exactly touchy about my background, so you needn’t worry.”

He made some affirmative noise, and tossed off the rest of his drink.

Then he glanced over her shoulder, and his brow drew together slightly.

“What is it?”

“Perhaps next time you might like to come over. I could have any chef come in and cook for us—wait.” He stopped himself before he dug his hole any further. “I mean…perhaps I could try cooking? I’ve rarely done so, but it seems…easy enough?”

Zhara chuckled at his abrupt change of direction. “Much better, Jumin. But you’re changing the subject…”

“Not exactly. I saw someone with a camera outside, and it occurred to me that at least in my penthouse we are safe from prying eyes.”

“Ah. Well, thank you for being concerned, but as long as our association doesn’t damage your stocks, I don’t care what they say about me.”

“I do.”

As always when he made statements like that, her stomach did a little flip, and her cheeks bloomed with color. But Jumin wasn’t watching; he was sending a text.

“I’m telling Mr. Kim to misdirect them,” he explained, not looking up. “He’ll drive around the left side of the building, while we exit and head to the right, where he will meet us after he circles around.”

“You’re very good at these…evasive maneuvers,” she said, full of admiration for his abilities.

He turned his full smile upon her, and she put a hand over her heart, ineffectively, to still its raucous beating. “Thank you, I have little practice but for your sake I hope it works. Usually I don’t bother.”

She should be glad he didn’t wreck her with that smile more often; his little smirks were bad enough…

They made it out of the restaurant without running into their pursuers; Jumin walked her to the door, as usual.

This time, Zhara knew if he encouraged her, just a little, she would probably let him in. Let him stay.

Even as she thought this, she knew she couldn’t. She might disdain his riches, but there was no denying that his way of life was…different. And there was nothing wrong with this apartment – it was actually nicer than the previous one she’d been living at, and a more secure building.

But somehow despite her attitude about his affluence, she found the idea of sleeping with him for the first time here in this apartment….distasteful.

So when she kissed him goodnight, though her body strongly encouraged her to go further, her brain firmly denied it, and she left him at the door and went inside.

Maybe it was because this place wasn’t really…hers? She did have things here, of course, but…it wasn’t ‘home’, not really.

She glanced at the little terrarium in the corner. Well, that helped, but…it wasn’t enough for her to feel comfortable with…

Suddenly an extremely naughty idea occurred to her.

The more her rational brain tried to talk her out of it, the more her chaotic soul (bolstered in large part by her raging desire for Jumin) encouraged her to go through with it.

It wouldn’t even take that much preparation…and damn, wouldn’t it be something to remember…

She sat down at her table with a notebook and a pen, and got to work.

***  
  
_“Would you have time to meet me at the theater tonight? I have some things I want to discuss about the place…”_

Zhara tried to keep her text to Jumin nonchalant, casual, while inside she was half giddy and half dying of anxiety.

_“I can make time.”_

Hmm. Very nice of him, but she didn’t want him carving out half an hour and have his driver coming round to pick him up…

_“Maybe we could do something after?”_

_“Of course, whatever you wish.”_

Oh, she was about to get what she wished, alright.

Every single time she thought about it, her stomach tied itself in sixty knots. She had a lot to do – why had she already texted him? Why try to set it up for tonight? It was a Saturday, sure, but…wasn’t it too soon? They’d only been on three dates, she was getting wayyyy ahead of herself…

As she went out shopping for…supplies, she kept telling herself: _if I’m not ready, I just won’t do it. I’ll play it off, and we can go do some sort of commoner activity. Go to a movie, for god’s sake._

She had no idea what she would do when the time came. There was certainly a definitive point of no return, and as she checked off the preparations on her list, that point approached with alarming speed.

When she started putting all the items she’d bought in a bag, checking them off as she went, it occurred to her how amusing it was that she was being so matter-of-fact, marking off things in a notebook…it was so quotidian. 

She took much longer than usual in the shower – she did do extra primping, but half the time was just standing under the water, staring at the wall, her stomach roiling.

When she got out she dressed carefully in the layers she’d already laid out on the bed. She’d had some of these things from previous shows she’d done, but piecing them together like this, along with the additional things she’d bought this morning, the effect was…pretty devastating, she thought.

Jumin wouldn’t know what hit him.

With this wicked thought bolstering her courage, she finished dressing – a t-shirt and somewhat loose jeans over everything else, since she would have to make it to the theater without looking like…well.

She gathered her things and hurried to the theater – it was only a mile or two to walk, and she felt the need to get a little exercise, calm herself down before she got there and started setting everything up.

***  
  
Her heart hammered. All the candles were lit; she checked her phone – ten minutes until he should be here. She had to hurry.

After all those pep talks about turning back…now that it came down to it, she couldn’t; she didn’t want to.

She ran to the back, turned the lights nearly off, leaving just one on the dimmest setting to illuminate the stage. The candles were a nice touch but not really bright enough for such a large area.

She set the music up on her phone; when she first started practicing here, she brought her own Bluetooth speaker that she’d been using for some time. It wasn’t the best quality but it worked okay for practice.

She thought about the note taped to the back door…she wished she could go back and change the wording now but it was too late.

_“Dear Jumin,_

_Lock the back door behind you. Please leave the lights off – the candles will guide you. Have a seat, and enjoy the show.”_

It was too brief…too impersonal. But then again she didn’t want to get all flowery and mushy on a piece of paper taped to the back door of an abandoned theater.

She sighed as she got ready, taking off the jeans, the t-shirt, her shoes.

It was just like going on stage – well it _was_ going on stage – she just had to forget the audience, and pour out her soul. Just dance.

She heard the click of the back door, and her stomach clenched so hard she halfway doubled over. She’d never had this much stage fright in her life. But she didn’t have time for that – she had to start. She hit play on her phone, and darted out to the middle of the stage as wavering piano notes rose.

She was trying not to look, not yet, but she saw him take off his coat, sit down. She began as Beyonce’s breathy voice echoed through the theater…

The diaphanous layers floated around her, sparkling here and there in the candlelight. As she moved across the stage, periodically she pulled one of the tiny ribbons loose, and a square of gossamer fabric would drift to the floor. The dance was supposed to symbolize laying yourself bare for your lover; giving up all your barriers, lowering your walls.

As the minutes passed and her emotions overflowed, guiding her movements, more and more of her was revealed. A couple candles illuminating Jumin’s beautiful, chiseled face; he leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped, eyes intent. She met his eyes a few times, and it almost broke her concentration. His tie was gone, his shirt loosened at the neck…

Now all that was left, was one flimsy bit of ‘dress’ that tied behind her neck, and the risqué, lacy underwear she’d bought that morning. The volume of the song slowly waning, she approached the front of the stage, and slipped over the edge, landing on her toes, to stand before him.

She was gratified to see his breathing was none too steady; face flushed, eyes aglow, that liquid steel pulling her in even more magnetically than before.

As the last notes played, she took his hand, and pulled it to the ribbon around her neck.

Obediently, he pulled, and the fabric slipped like liquid to her feet.

She put her hands on his shoulders; she was afraid he’d think he needed to talk to her about her performance, which might make things awkward, and she was prepared to interrupt him – as she so often did – with a kiss.

But he preempted her, and to her surprise his hands moved around to cup her ass, yanking her against him as his mouth descended on hers almost roughly.

She gave a little hum, and to her intense satisfaction, he groaned, pulling her even tighter against him.

His length dug into her belly, hard and unyielding, and she relished it – how much longer would she have to wait to feel him inside her?

Her fingers threaded through his dark silken hair, and without warning he reached beneath her legs and picked her up, walking a few steps forward to set her on the edge of the stage. Then he jerked her to him again, pushing suggestively between her legs, and she gasped.

Then she did something she’d never done before, nor did she intend it – wanting desperately to touch his bare skin, she grabbed both sides of his shirt, and pulled.

She ripped the buttons right out.

They both glanced down; her eyes widened, and his narrowed.

Then he pushed her backward, and she gasped as he climbed up onto the stage with her, the flickering light of the candles making him look almost like some sort of villain.

He pushed her legs apart, and she let him; then he watched her face as he slid a finger underneath the side of her dainty lace panties…

And yanked, popping the strap, then pulled them aside so she was exposed.

A soft whimper escaped her; god knew this was even better than the nonsense she’d imagined the other night; how could she know he would be so…aggressive? But she found she had absolutely zero problem with it – in fact, quite the opposite.

And now, after that whole dance and her stupid metaphors about revealing yourself to your lover…here she lay, revealed to him in truth, and he was unfastening his pants. She could barely breathe; it seemed she was about to get what she wanted.

He let her push the shirt off his shoulders as he lowered himself over her; all that beautiful skin, just waiting for her to run her hands over it. But before she could even begin to enjoy the warmth of him beneath her fingers before…

He entered her, hard and fast, nearly filling her with one stroke, and she cried out, her voice echoing through the darkness of the theater. It hurt, and she hadn’t expected that – nor had she expected for him to be so…abrupt.

But once he was inside her he stilled for a moment, and rested on his forearms, breathing heavily. She put her hands on either side of his face, and he leaned his forehead against hers.

Her breath caught – she may have fantasized about him being rough with her, but this…this sweetness was much more compelling, especially coming from him.

He began moving slowly, pushing a little deeper each time; and every time she felt less pain and more pleasure. She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him against her, bringing his lips down to meet hers.

He leaned to his left, and with his right hand he reached down beneath her knee, and pulled her leg up. Obediently she wrapped both legs around him, using her considerable muscles to bring him deeper, and he groaned into her mouth.

His hand slid back up, along her thigh, over her hip, her waist, and then his fingers slipped beneath the thin lace of her bra, his palm closing over her breast.

She arched her back, pressing into his hand; he rewarded her by thrusting harder…faster…

“ _God_ , Zhara,” he whispered, his breath warm on her cheek – the first thing he’d said since he got here. “I…”

“Jumin,” she murmured in reply, her breath hitching as he drove into her.

“I…I need you…”

His words confused her, but she didn’t have the thought capacity to dwell on it now; she merely pulled him closer, kissed his jaw, his cheek.

“Zhara,” he panted, and she could feel his urgency – at this moment she wanted nothing more than to feel him come inside her.

“Jumin…please…yes…”

He pushed again, hard, and she gasped when she felt him swell within her, pulsing hot and deep.

When she opened her eyes she was shocked to see tears at the corners of his; she tugged on him, and for a moment he collapsed onto her, and she ran her hands through his hair. His arms went around her; he withdrew, but didn’t move for several seconds.

But suddenly he tensed, and pulled away.

“Jumin?”

But he was already backing up, pulling his pants back up as he went.

“I can’t,” he breathed, not looking at her, wiping his eyes hastily. He grabbed his shirt from where she’d tossed it, and jumped lightly down from the stage.

“W-what? What’s—”

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” He was throwing his jacket on over his buttonless shirt, and she stared, not even able to comprehend what was happening.

She sat up, pulling her knees together, and crossed her arms over her chest. She opened her mouth to ask him what the hell was going on, but she’d taken too long to organize her words.

He was gone.

***  
  
Zhara sat there, dazed, for ten minutes or more. Tears slid silently down her face, and occasionally she brushed them aside in frustration.

He just…fucked her, and left. Like she really was a plaything.

A whore.

How could she have so misjudged…how could she have thought that…

But no, he’d given every indication that there was real romance between them. She hadn’t made that up, or misinterpreted him. So…was he just lying the whole time?

Her stomach was clenching so hard she thought she might be sick. Candles guttered around the stage, flickering wildly now that the wicks were drowning in melted wax.

Her phone, still connected to the Bluetooth speaker, dinged, and she took a deep breath, and stood.

A trickle of Jumin’s heat slid down her leg, and she made an angry noise as she hurried to the backstage area and wiped at it with a towel she had in her bag.

How disgusting of her…how completely shameless and crude! There were so many self-recriminations floating in her head that she could barely decided whether to be confused, hurt, or angry, or all of the above.

She threw her clothes back on; at least the bra had made it out intact…

God, she’d have to clean all this up…she’d have to…wipe off the stage…

She ran to a trashcan and barely made it in time to avoid throwing up on the floor.

She’d never felt so used, so violated before. Well, she couldn’t say he’d violated her – she’d invited this. Given it to him on a silver platter. All he’d violated…was her trust. Her misplaced belief that he was an actual human being.

She wiped her mouth and went to grab her phone when it dinged again.

Jihyun…he was back in town…

She was just trying to formulate what to say to him, when her phone rang; he was calling, presumably because she hadn’t answered his texts….she’d had “do not disturb” turned on for some time.

“Hi,” she answered. “Y-you’re back…how was your trip?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but she knew he would hear the stutter in her voice.

Her emptiness.

“Z?” She gave a sad little smile; he was the only one that called her that. “What’s wrong, are you ill?”

“No, I’m…fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Your voice is echoing – are you at your theater?”

Her chin trembled. Not hers any longer – definitely not, a thousand times over.

“It’s not mine, but yes.”

“Something happened.” Why could he read her so well? “Can I come get you? I’m on the way home from the airport, I have to drive through the city anyway.”

She opened her mouth to refuse, but…

He was so sweet, so kind…and that was what she needed more than anything.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Don’t speed. Be careful.”

He made a noise that was half chuckle and half sigh. “Yes Z. See you soon.”

What would she tell him? She couldn’t possibly tell him the full truth – it was too degrading, not to mention Jumin was his best friend; he might not even believe her.

Well, that was a lie – she and Jihyun were pretty close, and she was fairly sure he’d never accuse her of lying. But still…this was so complicated…

She hastily turned the lights back on, went out and blew out all the candles, but left them on the stage for now; she couldn’t carry them home with her when they were full of hot wax. She did move the ones along the hallway from the back door, and in front of the stage, leading to where…Jumin had sat…watching her so raptly…

_Waiting for me to be done, probably, so he could stick his dick in me and then leave._

It just seemed so unlike him; he could have sex with any woman he wanted, women much more beautiful than she, smarter, wealthier, more cultured, more accomplished.

As she gathered up the pieces of her costume, stuffing them in her bag, she wondered. Perhaps it was the challenge? Perhaps he didn’t really like her at all, but he was bored and wanted to see if he could win her over enough that she’d sleep with him?

Well, if that was his goal he’d won thrice over, considering how she’d given it to him without him even asking. God, how humiliating…

She wondered if she would ever live it down.

She turned the lights out and left the theater, stood outside the rear door, in the alley, not even caring about the chill breeze that blew across her; perhaps it could cool the heat of her shame.

In a minute or two Jihyun’s car pulled up; she was just going to throw her bag in his back seat, but he got out, and caught her in a hug.

For a second she stood there, stiff, but almost immediately all the resistance melted out of her, and she sagged against him, sobbing.

She didn’t even really say any intelligible words, not yet, but he smoothed her hair and held her for a few minutes, until her tears subsided somewhat and her breathing evened out.

“It seems Jumin has done something he’ll have to answer for,” he muttered as he opened her door.

“But I didn’t even tell you—”

“I’ve never seen you get this upset, and yes, you did mention his name. He has to have done something reprehensible, and you can tell me about it when we get back to your place.”

He shut her door and got back in the car on his side. They drove back to her apartment – a ride of only a few minutes, but she was glad she didn’t have to walk back alone, in the dark, without a jacket. _Or Jumin’s sweater_ , her brain helpfully offered, and she had to bite her knuckle to avoid breaking down again.

An hour later, she’d showered, and was under a blanket on her couch, a cup of tea in her hand. Jihyun sat on the other end of the couch, glanced at her, and sighed.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

She paled. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Can you try?”

“A lot…has changed, since I talked to you last,” she whispered. When she started to set down her tea, her hand shook a little bit, and the cup clinked against the table.

Jihyun winced, and then held his hand out to her.

Before she could think better of it, she crawled next to him, nestling into the curve of his arm, facing the back of the couch, her head on his shoulder. He stroked her damp hair in silence for some time, until finally she felt up to explaining it.

“Jumin and I…have been…dating, I guess. For a couple weeks.”

His hand paused for a moment, then resumed its motion. “I see.”

Zhara smiled slightly. “I bet you do.”

“Well, I can’t say I didn’t suspect something might happen with you two.”

“How could you possibly expect that?” she asked indignantly. “All we did was fight!”

“Mhmm.”

“You’re inscrutable.”

“I know. But go on – so you’ve been dating, I take it things were going alright up till today?”

“I…did something stupid.”

“That seems doubtful.”

“Jihyun I do stupid things all the time, especially where Jumin is concerned – it’s half the reason we’re always ending up in arguments!”

“That’s not the same thing. Your fire against his ice is just a force of nature, it’s not being stupid. Besides, now that you two have made an understanding of some sort, it seems doubtful that a cataclysmic argument arose from you telling him he’s an ice prince.”

She rolled her eyes. “I said that _one time_ —anyway, I don’t know why I’m arguing with you…you’re right.”

She took a deep breath; still, it took her a moment to move forward with her explanation.

“I…I danced for him. Like, _really_ danced.”

“Oh my.”

She pulled away and looked at him, unsure how to take his reply, but his eyes were full of nothing but concern.

“That’s very momentous, is it not?”

She nodded and leaned back against his shoulder. “Well, he walked in on me practicing a couple weeks ago. But this time, I…I did it on purpose. And it was…”

She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent tears, but it didn’t help – a few escaped regardless, and she reached up hastily to wipe them away.

“It was dirty. Lewd. I…was trying to seduce him or something, I guess, and…I succeeded. And then he left.”

“WHAT?”

This time Jihyun pushed her away from him a little so he could look at her face. His own was extremely perturbed, his expression angrier than she’d ever seen it.

“What do you mean he—Zhara, I’m sure it wasn’t dirty – nothing you could ever do would be dirty, you have the grace of an angel, I’m sure it was beautiful. But the point is, you’re telling me he _slept_ with you and then _left_?”

She turned away, face flaming. “I think “sleep with” is a very nice way to put it.”

“Zhara, my god—”

“I’m basically a whore now. Isn’t that what whores do? Accept money or favors in exchange for sex? He did buy me some very expensive wine, so…”

“Shut up! I will not sit here and let you talk about yourself that way!” He was only getting more and more mad, and the part of her that wasn’t boiling in shame at telling him the story was a little concerned at his vehemence.

“I’m going to go to his place right now. He’ll be lucky if I don’t toss him off the 63rd floor balcony—”

“No! Jihyun…” she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him for some reason she couldn’t name. “Don’t…don’t leave me…”

His anger immediately seemed to cool. He pulled her all the way into his lap, pulling the blanket over them both, and put a hand to her face.

“Okay. I won’t leave you. I’m sorry I yelled.”

“It’s okay. I yell a lot.”

He chuckled, earning a watery smile from her. “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to just…pretend I don’t know? I’m not sure how well I can do that, but I can try, if that’s what you want. But…I’d like to talk to him, if you’d let me.”

She shook her head, mumbling into his sweater. “Not yet. Later.”

He nodded. “Alright. For now, I’ll just stay here, okay? I won’t leave you, I promise.”

She shuddered with a heavy sigh. He was so good, just such a sweet and wonderful being; she was so lucky to have him as a friend. “Thank you, Jihyun. You have no idea how happy I am that you came back when you did.”

“Me too, Z. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the song she dances to for Jumin... I'm sure you've heard it but just in case ;) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfQ7ucGQdOM


	2. Chapter 2

Jihyun was true to his word. He didn’t leave, even after he put her to bed; he started to sleep on the couch, but though she felt a little weird about it, she convinced him to sleep in the bed with her.

She knew it was unfair to him, asking him to heal her of Jumin’s mistake, in a sense. But his soothing presence was just what she needed, and she thought maybe she could actually sleep if he was within arm’s reach.

When she woke and found her limbs tangled with his, she forgot for a moment what had happened. And when she did remember, his presence softened the edge of her unhappiness.

He offered to stay the next day and night as well, but she refused, giving him a real and only slightly broken smile to convince him she was okay.

“Fine, but please call me if you need me, okay? I have nothing going on for a few days, I’ll just be painting…”

She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Good. Paint away, I’m fine, don’t worry about me. You helped me enough already.”

He squinted at her, but sighed in defeat.

As she got ready to take care of some of her translation contracts, she logged into the messenger. No Jumin, thank god. But Jaehee was there, and quite perturbed about something.

 _“What’s the matter?”_ Zhara responded to Jaehee’s angry emoji.

 _“He’s left, and he dropped Elizabeth 3 rd at my house at 4 this morning,” _Jaehee replied.

Zhara swallowed. She couldn’t NOT ask about Jumin – the others had some idea that they’d been seeing each other, and it would just set off alarm bells for her to avoid speaking of him.

_“Oh? Where did he go?”_

_“I don’t know, Zhara. He made…HIS OWN reservation!”_

_“My god…”_

_“Yes! And he just showed up here so early in the morning, looking…very stressed, I might say, although I didn’t have my glasses on at the time so I can’t be sure.”_

_“Wow, that’s really rude of him, I’m sorry he just left her with you!”_

_“He seemed to be…growing a little more considerate lately, but apparently that was short-lived.”_

Zhara closed her eyes, a grimace of pain crossing her face. Short-lived, indeed. Right up until he got what he wanted from her and didn’t have to fake it any more, apparently.

 _“Well, hopefully he’ll come back soon. Maybe something to do with his family?”_ She doubted it, but it sounded plausible.

_“Perhaps. I may have to call Mr. Chairman about it, and I strongly wish to avoid doing that.”_

_“I don’t blame you. Well, I have to go, let me know if you find out what the deal is!”_

_“I could ask the same of you…”_

Zhara sighed heavily. _“I have no idea where he’s gone. Oh, but by the way V is back.”_

_“That’s good to hear. Well, I will let you go. I have to find some tape to get the remaining cat hairs off my clothes.”_

Jaehee left the chat, as did Zhara, but she couldn’t help checking her texts and calls…just in case.

Nothing from Jumin; of course. Why would there be?

But on the other hand, it was extraordinarily out of character for Jumin to just disappear.

Suddenly she had a stroke of inspiration, and she opened her texts one more time to compose one to Jaehee. _“Try that vineyard he went to a few weeks ago. I think he mentioned something about it the other day.”_ That last part was a lie, but it sounded believable at least.

A minute or two later Jaehee responded with gratitude and said she would check with them just in case.

Zhara settled in to get back to her usual life; well, she wasn’t about to return to the theater any time soon, so she couldn’t say she was back to her regular routine. Maybe she could find a place nearby to run instead of dancing.

She didn’t much feel like dancing now anyway.

 *******  
  
Jaehee did indeed discover Jumin at the vineyard; unfortunately, she also told him how she’d thought to look there, and Zhara hated the idea that Jaehee even spoke of her to him. It wasn’t Jaehee’s fault, of course, but it rankled all the same.

Then he texted her. “We need to talk.”

No, no they didn’t – if she talked to him she was liable to throw something at him, or worse, cry.

She ignored it.

He called; she ignored that too. And most of all she ignored the nagging feeling that all this was just a replay of how they’d first started dating.

Then, he hadn’t used her like a piece of chattel and then left. Then, all she’d had to get over was his attitude, and he made that easier than expected. This time…was different.

While she allowed that misunderstandings had indeed caused a lot of the strife between them…there was no misunderstanding what had happened a few nights ago.

You don’t accept the gift of a woman’s body and then immediately disappear, and expect to make any sort of excuse that matters.

It had been a few nights since the Incident; she’d just gotten out of the shower and was in her underwear when she remembered she wanted to check the terrarium Jumin had given her.

She might hate him but it wasn’t fair to treat the plants badly because of it.

Just as she grabbed the little globe, she heard a beeping at the door – that was odd, it sounded like the noise of the keypad—

She was getting ready to pull the glass orb from the ceiling to use it to smash against the intruder’s head…when Jumin came in and swiftly closed the door behind him.

She gaped. She was so shocked that he’d just come into her apartment, that it took her a few seconds to process it.

“Before you start screaming at me, I’ve been trying to call you, and I knew you wouldn’t let me in if I knocked. Doesn’t all this seem familiar to you?”

Her nostrils flared, her anger rushing forward to take the place of confusion.

“How. _Dare_. You. You don’t get to be snide with me, you sorry son of a bitch!”

He winced, and looked away. “I deserve that. But I came her to try to expl—”

“There is no explanation! There is nothing you could say to me that would make up for what you did. You should have stayed at the stupid vineyard! Forever for all I care!” She’d walked up to him, uncaring about her state of undress; he’d seen much more of her, after all.

But when he managed to turn her back to the wall, and pin her arms behind her, her eyes went wide. Perhaps she’d miscalculated…

“I’m trying to apologize here, can you please stop screaming at me for two seconds?” She’d never heard him raise his voice like that, and some hideous, perverse splinter of her soul reached out, eager to hear it again.

“You do a great job of apologizing, roughing a girl up! Or is that not what you really came here to do? Maybe you just want to take your pleasure on me again and then leave?”

“That’s not fair! Dammit, you drive me insane!”

“At least I make you _feel_ something, Ice Prince!”

A noise of surprise was trapped in her throat when he kissed her, roughly, possessively.

And she kissed him back. All her disgust, her shame, her humiliation…somehow paled in the shadow of her desire for him. Her desire for his body…and for his heart. If this was how she had to get through to him…then so be it. It might be dishonest to exaggerate her rage just to provoke a response, but after all, it couldn’t compare to what he’d done, could it?

She returned his kisses with angry fervor – bit his lip hard enough that he gasped, and pressed her against the wall even harder.

At some point he let her wrists go, and god help her, the first thing she did was unbutton his pants.

As she did his hand found its way into her hair, and he pulled it to the side none too gently, pressing his lips to her neck. “Why…are you doing this…” he panted between little bites on her sensitive skin.

She whimpered as he sucked hard on the pulse below her ear. “This…is what I deserve, isn’t it? Isn’t that what you think?” she breathed, and he slid one hand beneath the waistband of her underwear, and pulled them down, then off.

“No! No, you deserve…” He trailed off as he lifted her against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around him. Then…he buried himself within her. “Much…” he pushed again… “better…”

She squeezed her eyes shut; that was both the first and last thing she wanted to hear. Would she ever understand him?

It didn’t matter right now.

“But this…this is what I need,” he growled against her hair as he slid deep inside her over and over. “I’m sorry…I need it…I need you…”

She couldn’t deal with this a second time, this sweetness followed by him abandoning her yet again.

“Shhh,” she hushed him. “Just fuck me, Jumin…”

He groaned, but stopped. “No…no. I can’t do this to you again—”

“I’m asking you to, I don’t care—”

He slid back in, seeming unable to help himself. “I don’t _want_ to hurt you, Zhara…”

She hitched her legs tighter around him, pulling him further into her. “It seems the only thing you _can_ do is hurt me,” she whispered sadly. “At least…do that…”

He gave a noise that sounded almost like a sob, and proceeded to give her what she’d asked of him; hard, and deep, and demanding.

In a few minutes he came; and once again she couldn’t help but give a purr of enjoyment when he swelled inside her.

But then he set her down, and something in her wouldn’t let him just…enjoy this time with her with no repercussions. It wasn’t fair, after what had happened before.

“Alright,” she said flatly. “You’ve made your apology, and had your fun. Now go.”

He stood back, and she dodged past him to go into the bathroom.

“Zhara, I—”

“Can’t hear you,” she lied as she turned on the shower. “You can let yourself out, yeah?” She was proud of how casual her voice sounded.

For one brief second she hoped she’d hurt him as much as he hurt her, but she knew that was impossible. For that happen, he’d have to be in love with her.  
  


 *******  
  
“No, there’s no need for you to—”

“Yes, I am. I know you’re not really okay, I can hear it in your voice. Do you really want to be alone?”

Zhara paused a second too long.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.” And Jihyun hung up.

It was so, so unfair of her. To ask him this. They were friends, but there was a limit to what friends should be asked to do. Comforting someone when they willingly let another person take advantage of them – _again_ – was beyond those limits, she thought.

Once again, he spent the night, giving her all the physical affection and comfort that she craved after her yet another disastrous encounter with Jumin. Once again, she refused to let him speak to Jumin about it; it was for the two of them to work out, if they even could, and she didn’t feel right having someone else fight her battles for her.

Even considering that she basically just surrendered every damn time the enemy made an advance…


	3. Chapter 3

It happened again several days later. Jumin came in, no knock, they argued, and their argument ended with her bent over the kitchen counter. At this point she didn’t even know what she was doing, or who was playing who; it was ridiculous, and crude, and shameful, but she couldn’t stop provoking him, and then offering her body for him to bury his frustrations in.

But this time, when Jihyun came over, Zhara felt too guilty to just let him cuddle away her problems.

She was calm when he got there; sitting on her couch with a glass of wine, and another for him.

He raised an eyebrow. She shrugged.

“Honestly, Jihyun, I’m just…I’m garbage. I might as well accept it.”

“Stop being so dark,” he admonished softly as he sat down next to her. “It doesn’t suit you.”

She smiled brightly at him, not even faking it. It wasn’t _her_ that was incompatible with darkness…

He cleared his throat and reached for the glass she’d poured him.

“You know...I disagree with Rika on pretty much every point, but one in particular.”

He paused with the glass to his lips, staring at her. Then took a sip. “What makes you bring that up…”

“The sun is…harsh. Unyielding, destructive, incessant. I love sunshine, but that’s just the truth. How she could ever have likened _you_ to it I don’t understand.”

He was staring at the pale golden liquid in his glass, and remained silent.

“You’re none of those things,” she continued, her voice lowering almost to a whisper. “You’re warm, caring, soft. And _good_.”

She took his glass and set his and hers on the table. Then she took his face in her hands.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. And I’m almost sorry you’re my friend, because it means you have to see it. Almost.”

He closed his eyes, sighed. Reached up to lightly grasp her wrists. “I don’t understand what you think is so good about me – you’ve seen the harm I can cause, so—”

“No!” she argued vehemently. “I haven’t seen you do any harm to anyone! I’ve seen you do your best to help someone who refused to be helped. I’ve seen you practically throw your life away in pursuit of it, only to be made to feel like you’ve done THEM wrong instead…I know we’ve talked about this before but Jihyun please know I will never stop telling you, any time I think you need to hear it. You are a good person, a beautiful soul, and your light isn’t harsh or hurtful. It heals.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

“Thank you…for thinking it, and for saying it. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly believe it but it helps me that you’re so adamant.”

“Maybe one day I can convince you.” She leaned back a little and locked her gaze on his amazing eyes. “Maybe—”

And suddenly, in a split second, something changed. Her heart gave a heavy lurch, and she sucked in a breath. He’d helped her so much, he’d been there for her – as she had for him. She’d been right, before – his soft light had healed her, every time that dark side of her revealed itself with Jumin. Even before that, when she’d felt hopeless about her dancing, lost, he’d soothed her, brought her back from the shadows.

Almost before she realized it, her lips found his, gently…a tentative kiss that spread a warm glow throughout her body, and especially in her heart.

For a moment Jihyun was still; then he was returning her kiss – searching, for what she didn’t know, but she hoped she could help him find it.

If Jumin’s embrace was fire and lighting, Jihyun’s was…warm honey, sweet and comforting, but still igniting a bloom of heat in her that surprised her with its intensity.

He was so gentle, she almost wanted to cry; his hands, his mouth, all showing her he cherished her, respected her. That she was precious to him. Such a contrast—

But she wouldn’t think about that right now. Didn’t want to. Jihyun’s sweet caresses made it easy to forget, after all…

After a minute or two, though, he broke away, his face flushed but confused.

And before he could even voice the question – _what are we doing_ – the shame of her actions hit her.

She jumped up, stumbled back, her hand to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at his beautiful, sweet face; she was unworthy of his attentions. Not two hours ago she’d had rough sex with another man in her kitchen, and now she thought she could…sully her dear friend with her attentions, when he was only trying to be helpful and comfort her.

She was absolutely disgusting; guilt twisted in her stomach like knives.

“God, Jihyun I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t—I don’t deserve to—I’m sorry!”

She fled into the other room, slammed the door, and then collapsed into the floor next to her bed, her tears staining the blanket.

***  
  
A few minutes later, Jihyun’s soft knock sounded on the door, but Zhara couldn’t answer – she was having a hard enough time keeping her tears quiet as it was.

But she forgot to lock the door.

“I’m coming in, Z.”

Oh well – it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her in worse straits. Or she him, for that matter…

She made a valiant effort to get herself together; he approached, and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

She winced. “Why are you still here? You should just go and leave me be, someone like you doesn’t need to be around me at all—”

“Will you stop? I told you before darkness doesn’t suit you.” His hand continued to pet her hair, and she squeezed her eyes shut, pursed her lips, afraid a sob would escape. “I understand that you feel guilty. I think you’ve chided me for that multiple times in the past, right?”

She couldn’t help but open her eyes to stare at him in the face of such a statement. “You felt guilty because you were _made_ to feel that way. On purpose, and without reason! This isn’t the same, Jihyun, you know it’s not! I’m—”

“You’re what? A human being that has flaws just like all of us? A woman who’s confused and doesn’t always know the right thing to do?”

She blinked.

“I agree that what’s going on with Jumin is…not good. But I don’t blame you for it; you’re just trying to figure things out. I hate that it’s hurting you in the process, though…”

“Well I hate that I’ve turned my confusion into your problem, Jihyun, it’s not fair to you.”

“What if I want it to be my problem?”

She sniffled, wiped her face. Her tears might be under control, but her guilt at the way she’d treated him was still swimming just below the surface. “I appreciate that you want to help me, because you’re my friend. But…losing control of my feelings like that, flinging myself at you…it only makes things worse.”

He sighed, and she was glad she was finally getting through to him.

But then he looked up, and his hand slid behind her neck.

“It may complicate things, yes, but…I…” He leaned closer, until their lips were a breath apart. “If you want me to, Zhara…I can give you…all the things you’re lacking. With him.”

She made some sort of sound – a whimper, a sob, she didn’t even know – but it was swallowed by his kiss.

Still sweet, still soft, but now…she could taste his _hunger_.

God in heaven, how could she turn away now? To know that he wanted her as badly as she did him…and to have him offer himself in such a way…

Within a minute she was straddling him as he leaned against the bed, her hands on his face, in his hair – but she managed to stop. For just a second. Deep down, she knew it was still unfair to him…with the way he’d been abused before…

“I promise, Jihyun, I will _only_ be good to you. I promise…”

“I know.” He had such faith in her, trusted her so much – she swore in her heart that she would do right by him. She ignored that voice that told her what she was about to do was wrong already.

Any further thoughts she might have had dissipated in an instant when he pulled her back against him – the warm, hard evidence of his desire pressing deliciously between her legs.

Hard, and much bigger than she’d realized.

“Jihyun!” she breathed against his mouth in surprise.

“Is it okay? I’m sorry, I—” she cut him off with a kiss, and slowly pushed against his length. A little whimper escaped her as she began to grind against him, and her blood pulsed hot, low in her belly. She shifted a little, and gasped when he rubbed against her just the right way…

She wanted more, much more. But there were things she had to tell him first. Things she wanted him to know…

“Jihyun…” she whispered, then pressed her lips to his neck, his ear, while she continued her motions. “If…if I come for you—” his hands tightened on her back, “it’ll be more than I’ve done for him…”

“Zhara…” She wondered if she’d ruined something by bringing it up, but she already suspected he would be much better at that, much more attentive, more concerned with her needs, and she hoped he would be glad to know that Jumin couldn’t do this for her.

“Do you mean…he hasn’t…at all? Or just…when you’re making love, you don’t—”

“Please don’t call it that. It makes it sound nice. Romantic.” She put her lips next to his ear again. “Making love is what I want to do with _you_.” He sucked in a breath. “But no, I mean…at all.”

“In that case, please, allow me…”

He must know she would allow him anything…

She was confused when he gently pushed her back, but stood with him.

Then he slid his hands underneath her shirt, and his eyes stayed on her as he pulled it, and her lacy ‘lounge’ bra, over her head. Then his gaze lowered, and he stared with undisguised need at her pert, bare breasts. Abruptly he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her towards him, and her head fell back with a sigh as his mouth closed over her soft skin.

Jumin had done nothing but take from her – but even when Jihyun was taking, he was giving. Gentle, reverent. She gasped when he ran his tongue over her nipple, and with a little groan he enfolded her in his arms, crushing her to him.

Desire built layer upon layer, the throbbing between her legs growing so insistent she felt like he might hear it. When his hands moved to her hips, slowly pushing her pajama shorts down, and off, she wondered how she’d managed to be so lucky. To have him here in her arms, about to make love to her – she’d done nothing to deserve it. But she would take what he offered; she desperately needed what only he could provide.

He got up, maneuvered her around onto the bed; she laid down obediently, waiting for him. He pulled off his shirt as he knelt before her, and she itched to touch him – but when he came closer, and pushed her legs apart, she realized what he was about to do.

She reached down, put her hand on his face. “No, Jihyun, you can’t—”

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“I…I don’t really know, but—”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Another layer of pink bloomed in addition to the flush she’d been wearing since he first kissed her. She looked away.

“Oh. I see. I would be…honored, to introduce you to it, but it seems you have another objection?”

“I…I’m afraid, after…earlier…” She’d taken a shower, of course, but…

“Ah. Do not worry. I don’t care about that.” He pressed his lips to her knee, then her inner thigh, and she bit her lip and dropped her head back down onto the pillows.

“Are you…are you sure?”

“Yes…” he was close, so close now… “in fact, I might enjoy the reminder that despite what you shared with him, you are sharing even more with me…”

God…how could he make it sound so…arousing? That she’d recently been with another man? Well, if it didn’t bother him, she wouldn’t let it bother her either.

When his lips met her heat – a kiss, almost; gentle, testing – she thought she might come on the spot; she’d never felt anything so blissfully pleasurable in her entire life. And after the times with Jumin, she may have taken care of herself a few times but it wasn’t enough. To be brought so close to completion with him over and over, but never fulfilled, was sorely testing. She grabbed handfuls of the sheet, and whimpered, trying to control herself.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his breath warm against her. “Please, don’t…don’t hold back…”

Then he slid one finger inside her, and at the same time his tongue darted across her clit.

Her cry was soft but full of need.

_He seems to want me to…maybe I should just…_

She took a deep breath, and at the same time he did something utterly ingenious with his tongue, swirling it around her most sensitive spot—

She cried out again, less quietly this time, as pleasure exploded from that spot, racing down her limbs. Her hips jerked against his mouth, and his eager groan was the most beautiful sound she could have imagined.

As her body stilled, he watched her closely, and then very lightly put his tongue to her again. A shudder ran through her.

“W-what—”

“Should I stop?” He did it again, and she let out a little whine.

Then he slid another finger inside her.

“ _God_ , Jihyun, please—”

“Hmm? Just tell me if you don’t like it—”

“ _I like it_ ,” she panted, “I—Ah!” He was pressing his fingers into her, searching, and something throbbed in her as he put pressure in a certain spot.

“Mmm…” he hummed, diving back in, now applying his tongue to her clit a little more aggressively, while pushing deep with his long fingers.

“Jihyun! Stop, wait!” She was proud of herself for forming words, even if they were breathless, almost a moan.

He did stop, immediately. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, but…I want…”

She reached for him, and he smiled, and raked the back of his hand over his mouth. Assenting to her unspoken request, he withdrew his other hand from between her legs, and moved up, and over her.

He lowered his head, kissing gently across her shoulder, her neck, then up to her ear.

“I’d like to make you come like that five times,” he whispered, and she shivered again at the strength of her arousal. “But we should start slow…”

Words failed her now; in answer, instead, she reached down and hurried to push his pants down over his hips. Then she wrapped her hand around him.

He exhaled sharply, his breath tickling her ear. She bit her lip – she’d been right, he was much bigger than she’d expected, bigger than Jumin, who was already big enough. She squeezed a little, then stroked him, subtly pulling him closer to her heat.

He groaned when his tip penetrated her, but held back, and pulled her arms up to encircle his back.

“I’ll try not to hurt you, but…”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, and kissed him softly. “Your idea of pain and mine greatly differ, I think…”

He pushed in a little more, and she bit her lip. It was a good thing he’d gotten her so wet…

A little more, and now it was painful, but she enjoyed it, the way she had to lift her hips, spread her legs farther…

“I think…it’s better this way,” he breathed, and she waited for him to elaborate as she slid her hand slowly up and down his back. “If…if you hadn’t been with anyone in a while…I don’t think you could take me in.”

She’d never considered the possibility of having an orgasm in response to words before, but in that moment she thought it could happen.

He kept going, and she felt it, forcefully, when he reached the spot he’d stroked earlier with his fingers; he heard her little moan. Pulled out, pushed back in again, and this time she cried out his name.

“Ah! Yes, my Zhara – now—” he took her right hand, and pulled it between them. Her eyes flew open.

“W-what—”

“Just…trust me…” he guided her fingers to her softness, hot and slick above where his manhood stretched her, and showed her what to do.

Well, now that she understood what he wanted, she of course was familiar with her own body, but—

Then he drew back, and pressed in again, while she stroked herself, and another cry fell from her lips.

“But…oh _god—_ ” she felt an orgasm coiling tightly between her legs as he pushed over and over, and she lost her own objection as her fingers and his hard length together sent her over the edge.

She cried out as she came so hard it almost hurt, her entire body shuddering, wave after wave of ecstasy flowing through her, every nerve alight. She couldn’t fathom the pleasure she felt from where he pressed inside her – it was beyond anything she’d ever imagined.

She let her hand fall away and collapsed against the pillows for a moment, exhausted. Jihyun kissed her, and she could feel his smile against her lips, as he brushed sweat-damp hair away from her face.

“Can I keep going?” he whispered, kissing her eyes, her cheek.

“Yes, please, _please_ ,” she begged, her arms going back around him. “Deeper, please—”

“Mmm, I will, I will,” he promised, “that was just for you.”

Then he put his hands beneath her back, lifting it slightly, and murmured into her ear. “Relax…” She did, as best she could.

And he thrust fully into her, filling her with his heat, hard and unimaginably deep.

She gave a long cry and gripped his back, panting.

“Shhh…I’ll stop for a minute, let me know if you want—”

“No! No, don’t stop…” she gasped, and then slid her hands down to his ass, gripping it as if to pull him even deeper.

The noise he made was almost a whimper. “You…you _like_ it?” He seemed so unsure – but how could she _not_?

“God _yes_ , Jihyun, I—ah!” He withdrew, and buried himself in her again. “Please…”

Again. “Zhara…” Again. “Tell me…tell me you like it…”

She thought she might pass out from all the currents running through her body – physical pleasure, adoration for him, an intense desire to please him, to make him happy, and then…this knowledge that he was claiming a part of her that no one else ever had, in multiple ways…

“I…I love the way you fill me, Jihyun,” she breathed, and he made that noise again, and started moving a little faster.

Only a few more seconds went by, when he kissed her, and then tensed. Their moans mingled as he pulsed inside her, his heat erasing everything that had come before.

He relaxed against her for a moment, but quickly raised back up as he withdrew, and pulled the covers over both of them. They lay facing each other for a few minutes, breaths slowing, heartbeats returning to normal. When they’d cooled down a bit he pulled her towards him again, slid his arm underneath her pillow, and draped her leg over him. Then he put his hand to her face.

She wanted to tell him how she felt. Wanted to explain to him this deep, warm passion that bloomed in her chest, this sense of safety, security. Happiness. But she was afraid, too. Conflicted, still confused.

How could she have feelings for Jumin that were so…opposed to what she felt with Jihyun? That wasn’t possible, was it? She had to be wrong about one, or the other. But…

She closed her eyes and put her hand over his.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He pulled his hand away only to use it to tug her closer, then kissed her forehead.

“If you consider me pleasing you to be a gift, I will be happy to give you as many gifts as you can handle in the future.”

She giggled. “Mmm, sounds divine. But…Jihyun, can I be honest with you?”

“I hope you will always be honest with me.”

“First of all…this is awkward, but…I never…I mean it’s not like I was a virgin or anything but none of that has ever happened before.”

“I feel like you must have had some awful boyfriends.”

“I mean only a couple, but yeah, I think I did, now that I’ve seen what it can be like. But it’s not just that…” She paused. Should she really tell him all this? It might do nothing but hurt him, and she wanted to avoid that at all costs…

“Go on, Zhara. This situation is complicated, I understand that. Just tell me what you want to say, I won’t get upset.”

“Stop reading my mind,” she joked, with a little smile.

“It’s your face that’s so easy to read. Struggle of being an artist I suppose.”

“ _You’re_ an artist, and you don’t have melodramatic expressions all the time like I do…”

“Well, in the interests of honesty…that comes from almost a decade of hiding any negative feelings around a certain person, to avoid setting her off, and I haven’t yet unlearned it.”

Her eyes went wide. “My god, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think—”

“Shh, it’s fine.  Now it’s your turn.”

She sighed; she’d tell him, but she couldn’t look at him. She tucked her head beneath his chin.

“I just feel really….conflicted.”

“Understandable.”

“Why are you so nice – it doesn’t make this any easier.” He chuckled again, and with her head against his chest now she heard it as a rumble against her cheek. Her heart thrummed again.

“Would you rather I took offense at everything you said?”

“No,” she whispered. “I love it. I love everything about you. Jihyun—”

“Zhara? What’s wrong?” She shook her head and tightened her arm around him, hand flat against the warm skin of his back.

“Why am I like this? How can I be this way? It’s so illogical, I can’t—”

“Zhara. Feelings are rarely logical.” He sighed and stroked her hair. “It’s Jumin isn’t it.”

She gave a little nod.

“Do you feel…bad? About what happened between us?”

She immediately pulled back to look at him. “No! No, not at all, I’m sorry if it seemed that way. I’m…more happy than you can imagine about that.”

His smile dazzled her, and she had to further postpone her explanation to kiss him for a minute or two.

He rolled over onto his back and pulled her halfway with him, so she was draped over him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Mmm…” She snuggled against him, content – but there was still that nagging feeling that she was being dishonest.

“Like I said,” she continued reluctantly, “not guilty, at all. There’s nothing to feel guilty about. Jumin and I…weren’t…serious, I guess. And even if we were, he doesn’t deserve for me to feel bad about anything, after what he did, and what we’ve done since.”

“ _You_ were serious,” Jihyun replied, and Zhara’s chin trembled a little.

“Stupid of me, but I guess I was. And that’s the problem.”

“You still are.” He didn’t seem…upset. It was just a statement. But how could he not be upset?

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I can’t lie and say I don’t care anymore, that wouldn’t be fair either, would it?”

“Do you want…” he cleared his throat, and she winced. “Do you want us to just be…casual? I mean…I’m not…sure I can do that, but if that’s what you want, I can try—”

“What?” She raised herself up to look at him, confused.

He didn’t look at her. “I mean, if you still…want to be with Jumin – which is fine, assuming he gets his act together – then I assume you…I mean you and I…”

“No! Oh god, that’s not what I meant at all!” She sighed heavily and leaned over him, kissing his face several times. “My sweet, wonderful man – I don’t mean that I don’t want us to be a thing!”

He smiled slightly at her ministrations, and looped his arms around her back. “Okay, then please explain, I don’t think I’m really understanding.”

“I mean…that I have very strong feelings for you.”

“Good.”

Her heart thumped. “Good?”

He smiled again, and again she got distracted.

“Mm, good,” he repeated when she pulled away, “but?”

She rested her forehead against his. “But I also…have feelings for him.”

“Ah.”

She flopped back down next to him, hiding her face in the pillow. “Yeah. And I don’t know what to do. About any of it.”

“Well…what I would like to tell you, is to give Jumin his walking papers.”

She half laughed. She knew that’s what she should do, but whether she wanted to…

“But that’s not my place. Whatever happens, you two need to work out your issues; whether you…stay with him, or if we become…something more, you can’t do any of it unless you figure out what’s going on with him.”

She nodded silently.

“For now,” he added, tucking her more comfortably against him, and pulling the blankets fully over them both, “let’s go to sleep.”

“How can I care for him, and for you to, Jihyun?” she whispered into his neck. “You’re so wonderful, and he’s…”

“Did he show you his…human side? I assume that’s how you fell for him.”

“You mean his ‘not actually a C&R Director Robot’ side? Yeah.”

Jihyun chuckled again. “Yeah, I’ve seen it, and I’m sure it’s pretty devastating to the ladies. I think he turns that on when he’s in board meetings too – I know Jaehee’s mentioned that’s how he gets so many contracts—” He broke off when she rolled away from him. “Zhara, no, I didn’t mean—oh god, I’m sorry—”

She lay there, hands over her face. God, no wonder…it all made sense now. Well, some of it anyway. She was just another contest for him, like a business contract but even easier.

Much too easy. How could she have fallen for such a thing? Could she _be_ any stupider?

“Zhara! Listen to me, that’s not what I meant! He would never—”

“How can you say he would never? I thought…I thought he was changing, opening up because of me, but he was just…showing me what I wanted to see, playing his cards right—”

“No, that is absolutely not true, Jumin wouldn’t do that.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. Her voice was flat. “Up until a couple weeks ago you didn’t think Jumin would use me for a quick lay and then leave, but that happened, so how well do you know him?” Somehow she was perversely angry at Jihyun standing up for Jumin, even though she knew he was only trying to help her, not his friend.

“Zhara…”

“He said…he said he needed me! That’s what he always says! I don’t understand, why—” she broke off, realizing she’d just told him what another man said to her during sex. Classy. “Never mind,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I got angry, it’s not at you, I just…I was so naïve, and I hate feeling that way.”

“If he said that…listen, I know this is…weird. But I’m his best friend. Tell me how he acted.”

“What?”

“Was he…mechanical? Cold? Or was he affectionate?”

“I can’t tell you that!!” She’d turned now and stared at him as he sat up in the bed….momentarily distracted by the beauty of his broad shoulders in the moonlight coming in through the window…

“I know it seems awkward, but—”

“Besides, it’s not like you’ve had sex with him, so what could you learn from knowing how he acted?”

“Of course I haven’t, but…” he looked away and cleared his throat. “Jumin and I, umm…have some shared experiences. From when we were younger.”

She blinked. “Do you mean…you and he…?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, neither of us was ever interested in that. But…” now he was picking at the blanket, and Zhara narrowed her eyes.

“You’re asking me to tell you something very personal, and I’ve already spilled my guts to you multiple times tonight. Out with it.”

He sighed heavily. “I’ve seen him _in flagrante_ , okay? Are you happy?”

“How in the hell did you see that? Were you…hiding in his closet or something?” Zhara was almost laughing, imagining all the idiotic ways in which teenage boys might witness something like that…

“No, we were…experimenting, I guess. With uhh…”

“Jihyun…”

“There were four of us, alright? Me and Jumin and two girls from school. We were just 19, and of course girls were all over Jumin, him being who he was.”

Zhara stared at him. He returned her gaze apprehensively, until she burst out laughing.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe it! Either of you – _you’re_ so…sweet, and…monogamous! And he’s…well he’s Jumin!”

“It’s not very nice to laugh when I confess my deepest darkest secrets,” he mumbled, but she saw him clamping his lips down on a smile.

“I’m sorry,” she crooned, and crawled back across the bed to hug him. “And I’m sure you had your fair share of attention too, so don’t try to make out like you were Jumin’s hanger-on.”

He shrugged, and she rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, so what you’re telling me, is that from this experience ten years ago, you would know…what? Whether he was being sincere when we were together?”

“Well when you say it like that it seems stupid. So now I’ve revealed my true colors to you for nothing.”

She giggled. “I feel very devious to have squeezed that tidbit out of you, and believe me I will never let you hear the end of it.”

“Not fair!” he groaned. “But…think about this Zeph. What could possibly be the point of him…luring you into the sack, if you will? Don’t you think there are women flinging themselves at him on a practically daily basis, that he could sleep with at any time?”

“I…I figured it was the challenge. Since he knew I hated him.”

“Hated him, huh.”

“Shut up.”

“Anyway, I’ve never know him to be into that sort of thing. He just…doesn’t care. About challenges. He likes winning, yes, but I’ve never seen him ‘create’ a challenge just to be able to beat it.”

“Hmm.”

“Listen, I agree that he…fucked up. Spectacularly. But…I think you should talk to him, without arguing, without…angry sex. And see if you can get him to explain himself.”

“How are we talking about this.”

“I have no idea, it’s only okay if I don’t think about it objectively.”

She snorted, and dragged him down with her as she lay back under the covers.

“Agreed. Okay, fine, I will, but…don’t expect to get me out of your hair that easily.”

“Zhara…” his tone had changed, grown pensive, and she instantly worried at what he was about to say.

“I just have to tell you…if Jumin wants to…keep you to himself. I will put up a fight.”

It was like someone banged a base drum in her heart. A thrum seemed to echo through her, and she squeezed him tight. “I hope…somehow it doesn’t come to that. But thank you. And Jihyun?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t…” she bit her lip, unsure how to say it. “I don’t care about you any less. Than him. So…it might be him who has to fight. If he cares to.”

“Thank you.”

He kissed the top of her head. A few tears escaped her eyes, but she didn’t let him see; he would only be worried she was upset.

She wasn’t; she was overwhelmed. It was like the size of her heart had doubled in the past day – how could she feel so much for him, but also have room for someone else? And how did she deserve to have such a wonderful being in her bed, in her life? He was so perfect – beautiful, talented, kind, considerate…

And he was here. Where Jumin emphatically was not.


	4. Chapter 4

“I think it might be best if we meet somewhere else. So we don’t…get distracted,” Zhara said uncomfortably, her face hot against the phone.

“Probably wise. Perhaps it will also dissuade you from slapping me if we’re in a public place.”

She hated so much how his voice made her feel, even when he was saying things that made her angry.

“I wouldn’t slap you if you didn’t come into my apartment without knocking.”

“Fair enough.” He was silent for a moment. “Did you…want to go to dinner?”

“Actually—” She thought about it for a moment. That didn’t seem like the best venue for them to have a serious conversation. It had to be private, but not so private that they could easily fall back into their recent habits…

“This might sound crazy, but could you just…come get me? And I’ll tell Mr. Kim where to drive us?”

“I…suppose I can do that. But…you’re not taking me to some…basement poetry slam, are you?”

She laughed out loud, and when he chuckled in response she thought she might drop the phone. Damn him for having such a deep honeyed voice…

She cleared her throat. “No, just wear something casual, like…what you wore the first time…” She had to pause to take a deep breath; something about mentioning their first date tore mercilessly at her heart, and her chin trembled for a second.

“Are you trying to get me to dress sloppy so I’ll feel at a disadvantage?”

He sounded completely serious, but she hoped she could tell a little better now when he was joking.

“Absolutely. I think you owe me that much.”

“Disadvantage it is.”

“Thank you. Pick me up at 6?”

“I’ll be there.”

When she hung up, she fell back against the couch cushions with a heavy sigh. Would she be able to resist him? Even where she planned on taking him, there were dark corners where…

But she wasn’t the least bit interested in such a display; the idea of it horrified her, honestly. Public sex was definitely not one of her secret kinks.

A few hours later she texted Jumin to meet her downstairs; she was a little nervous that if he came to her door – especially dressed in that unbuttoned, untucked shirt and sweater combo – she might just drag him in the door and call it a night.

She agonized for quite some time over whether to tell Jihyun what she was doing. She’d felt guilty multiple times while she was getting ready. But as usual, he met her ‘confession’ with calm acceptance, even encouragement, and his attitude helped console her somewhat.

“Don’t worry about me. I just want you to smooth things over with him; however it ends up, we’ll work on it later.”

“Why are you so—”

“Nice? I think we discussed this already,” he cut her off, a laugh in his voice.

“I know, I know…thank you.”

“Good luck.”

“I’ll need it – hopefully you don’t see us on the news later: young woman slaps C&R Director in middle of crowded shop.”

He chuckled. “I believe in you!”

She finished getting dressed – this time wearing a sweater, jeans, and flat boots; thankfully the weather was a little cooler and justified covering herself up. She didn’t want Jumin getting distracted.

_Who are you kidding, you’re the one most likely to get distracted…_

She shook her head as she headed down to the garage, where Jumin’s car awaited.

As had become his habit, he picked her up in the smaller sedan rather than the limo. But as soon as she saw the car, with Mr. Kim holding the rear door open for her, something occurred to her that thankfully hadn’t before. Except now she couldn’t really escape it.

Had…had Mr. Kim brought Jumin to her building all those times? And…waited, while they were…

Her face turned twelve shades of red, and she thought she might cry she felt so humiliated; she barely kept her composure as she hurried past the man to get into the car.

_Calm down, he doesn’t know what Jumin was doing up there…_

When he came back downstairs an hour later with his hair mussed and his collar undone? Of course Mr. Kim knew…oh _god—_

“Zhara? Are you alright?”

She squeezed her eyes shut; she couldn’t very well ask Jumin about such a thing with Mr. Kim sitting right there in the front seat.

She glanced at Jumin for one second, her eyes wet. She held up her phone, showing him the text interface of the messenger. He nodded; at least he was smart. About some things, anyway.

 _“Mr. Kim waited downstairs for you the other times you came by, didn’t he? He…”_ she stopped typing for a moment, unable to finish her sentence.

Jumin laid a hand on her knee, and for some reason, though he was partially the cause of her distress, this struck her as very sweet. She gave him a brief smile and went back to her phone.

_“He knows what we were doing, doesn’t he”_

Jumin made a little noise like a growl, and she stared at him, confused, as he texted his reply. That little crease had appeared between his brows…

_“Of course not. I would never create a situation where your honor might be called into question, and I’m sorry you think that of me.”_

She blinked when the message came through.

“Sir? Do you have a destination yet?” Mr. Kim chimed in from the driver’s seat.

“Oh! 4th and Central, Mr. Kim,” Zhara replied, then looked at Jumin, a little embarrassed. Was she allowed to give directions to his driver? Oh well; too late now.

She put down her phone, and took Jumin’s hand.

“I’m sorry, I guess I assumed…that it wouldn’t occur to you.”

“Understandable. I haven’t given you reason to assume anything good about me.”

“It’s not _all_ your fault, Jumin,” she surprised herself by saying. “We both contributed to our…misunderstandings.”

That little quirk to his mouth – god she’d missed it. “It’s nice of you to say so, but I think the crown jewel of mistakes still lies with me.”

“Granted.”

His fingers laced with hers, and her heart pounded so hard she thought it might pop right out of her ribcage. Idiotic to be affected by a small gesture after everything they’d done together…

Zhara asked after Jumin’s business interests, his father; he inquired about her translation work. All safe, boring topics – necessary for the duration of the drive.

Her heart rate spiked when they pulled up to the curb near the intersection she’d mentioned; a downtown type area with a lot of shops lining the streets. Pretty soon the time for inane conversation would be over, and they’d have to actually talk about their problems.

She was a little terrified.

“I’ll call you to pick us up, Mr. Kim,” Jumin instructed as they got out.

Jumin took her hand when she began to lead him down the sidewalk. Her heart skipped a beat; immediately following was a sharp pang of guilt, which she had to work hard to repress.

Engaging in illicit encounters with Jumin in her apartment didn’t make her feel like she was betraying Jihyun nearly as much as…regular date activities. Romance.

But she reminded herself that Jumin had come first; even if he’d royally screwed up what they had, she owed it to him to at least let him explain.

And would she tell him about Jihyun? She’d wondered this a hundred times, but always ended with decided she wouldn’t, not yet. There was nothing to tell; she wasn’t married to either of them, and though she felt more solidly committed to Jihyun – oddly enough, given the recent onset of their romance – she wasn’t truly bound to either of them, and right now…she was pretty sure Jumin would only get angry, and the resulting argument would set their progress back to the Iron Age.

When she slowed, turning into a small shop set between two newer, larger ones, Jumin glanced up at the sign.

“Interesting choice,” he said mildly.

“Well, it’s usually not busy this late, and there are a lot of nice corners for reading,” she explained, pulling him along into the book store, its warm lighting casting a golden glow over everything.

She nodded at the shopkeeper who was busy with something behind the counter, and headed for the back, up a narrow set of stairs, pulling Jumin along behind her.

Upstairs were more books, of course, but several little sets of chairs and couches scattered in the corners, and between the shelves. One or two of these seats were occupied – one with a couple cooing over baby books, and another with an older gentleman reading a book on ornithology. But most were empty. She led Jumin to a rather dark section with a well-worn but fluffy couch, next to a shelf labeled “Entomology”.

He raised an eyebrow. “Should I be…insulted, by your choice of locale?”

She snorted. “Honestly, it’s just the least-popular section of the store, in my experience, but you can feel free to infer anything you wish.”

He sat down on the couch with her, and they both stared at their hands for a moment.

“I suppose I’ll go first,” he said, only the slightest hint of reluctance coloring his words.

“I…have never in my life done anything as disgraceful as what I did to you at the theater, and I will never be able to apologize for it enough.”

Her eyes widened; she hadn’t expected such a heartfelt apology right up front, and it caught her off guard.

She had to look down; for a moment, seeing some depth in his eyes that she wasn’t prepared for, she’d wanted to just forgive him and kiss him and be done with all this arguing. But that wasn’t being fair to herself; it really wasn’t an option to just tell him everything was fine, just because he’d apologized. He still had to work to get her trust back.

“I appreciate your apology,” she said quietly. “And I don’t want to sound…needy. But there’s more to it. I need to know _why_ , Jumin.”

He was silent for a minute, and she risked looking at him again. Those deep grey eyes, molten in the lamplight, like smoke swirling with some unknown pain.

“I can see I have made assumptions about you as well that I will have to revise,” he replied finally, surprising her yet again. However she’d thought their discussion would go, it hadn’t been like this.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought…that you understood my reasons. And that you were…inviting me back, if you will, to punish me.” She stared at him in abject confusion. “But I should have known you would never manipulate someone like that…”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose in the absence of our rational discussions – and your sincere scolding – I’ve reverted right back to my original, and sadly generalized, opinion of women.”

“Jumin, I don’t understand – I never invited you anywhere, the whole reason I got angry with you was because you just showed up and barged into my apartment—”

“That is not what I was referring to.”

She blinked. Oh. “OH. I see – yes, I suppose I did instigate those umm…”

“Physical arguments?”

She gave a humorless laugh. “Accurate enough. So…you thought I was doing that to…to punish you?”

He took her hand, held it gingerly in his, tracing her palm with his thumb. She tilted her head, her perplexity climbing with each passing second.

“When I’m with you, you may have noticed I…loosen up, you might say. Sometimes…considerably.”

She nodded.

“I was…getting used to this effect you had on me. It wasn’t easy; everything I’ve taught myself – and advice I’ve imparted to others – suggests that I shouldn’t let emotions get the better of me, and I should maintain my calm demeanor at all times.”

He paused, but she just waited, seeing how difficult it was for him to disclose this, whatever it was.

“Then, when you…” he sighed heavily, and ran his free hand through his hair again – it was sadly mussed, now, and she wanted desperately to touch it, but she held back. “When you danced… _god_. It was like…all my emotions just boiled right to the surface, I couldn’t catch them, any of them, and then…”

He looked up at her. “When you came down off the stage, I could see it in your eyes – in everything, the way you moved – that you wanted me. Me, just me, none of the things I stand for or the things I own or the—” he broke off and rubbed a hand over his face. When his eyes met hers again, the swirling smoke drew her in, hypnotic. His voice lowered several notches when he spoke.

“When I took you – when I was inside you it was like…all those feelings I couldn’t tame just came pouring out of me, drowning me – and I loved it, and I hated it, all at once. I felt more alive in those few minutes than I had in my whole life; not just because of the sex, but because of how you welcomed me…and I knew in that moment that I could never feel that way unless I was with you. And yet, being with you…would always make me feel that way.”

He reached out a hand and touched her cheek, and she was surprised to find he was wiping away her tears.

“Please, do not—I’m not explaining this very well, I’m sorry; I didn’t really….I didn’t expect to have to verbalize it all, and I’m doing badly.” He sat back in his corner of the couch, looking away self-consciously.

“No, Jumin, god…”

Now she couldn’t prevent herself from embracing him; she could never have anticipated such a confession, and it moved her more than she could express to him. She wrapped her arms around him and held him – it was several seconds before he tentatively returned her embrace, seeming a little confused.

She kissed his cheek. “I said there was no explanation that would suffice, when you first tried to talk to me about it. And I’m sorry about that, but as you can imagine, I was…still really upset about it, then.”

“You have nothing to apologize for – even less so now that I…” he pushed her back a little. “How could I have even thought you would know any of this…I’m skilled at many things but this just shows how inept I am at reading women…”

She raised her eyebrows, unwilling to contradict him.

“Well, I should tell you the rest, I suppose; I didn’t really give you an explanation for leaving, did I?”

She shook her head.

“After I…” he glanced at her briefly, then cleared his throat. “After I was done, it suddenly hit me that…that you had control of me. Because of how I felt.”

“That was the last thing I thought I had,” she murmured.

He met her eyes again. “Have,” he corrected. “Even now.”

She flushed, and looked away; she couldn’t deal with such an admission, not with those eyes staring at her like _that_ …but she couldn’t ignore when he reached out and hesitantly took a strand of her hair between his fingers.

“Without you, all my parts are…orderly. Perfectly aligned and still. The way I always thought I wanted them to be.” His hand explored further, gently stroking her hair now, and her breath quickened.

“With you, everything in me is in motion. Growing, blooming, remaking itself, humming just beneath the surface.” He was closer now, and drawing nearer with every breath; how could anyone expect her to resist him…

“I’m sorry I’ve been so rough with you,” he whispered, his lips now only inches away from hers. “My rational mind just wanted me to push you away, get you out of my head, but this new…emotional side, wanted nothing more than to keep you next to me at all times…”

Her lips parted, and he looked down at them, then back up. “And yet another part of me…just wanted you beneath me…”

He captured her gasp with his lips, but far from his recent manner, this was…slow. Purposeful, but gentle.

She thought she might die she wanted him so badly.

But he didn’t press her – after a moment he drew back, though he remained close. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make this about sex. It’s not about that, but…”

This time it was she who looked down at his lips, but she resisted reclaiming them, for the moment.

“I think I understand,” she replied quietly.

“Do you?”

“You’ve always been able to ignore women, because you were unemotional about them, right?”

He nodded. “Not to say I haven’t…” he glanced at her, then away. “I beg your pardon. Please go ahead.”

“I know you’ve slept with women before, Jumin,” she scolded with a little chuckle, thinking back to what Jihyun had told her. “It’s not like it’s a secret, or that it bothers me.”

“Noted.”

“So…” she knew what she wanted to say, but suddenly was embarrassed. “I’m not…eloquent like you are, Jumin,” she muttered, blushing. “I don’t know how to say what I—”

“Am I?”

“What? Of course you are, I mean all the things you’ve said here, it’s no wonder you can talk people into signing any contract on earth…”

He sat back as if she’d slapped him. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Using my ‘business charm’ on you?”

“Jumin, no, I’m sorry – that’s not what I meant—”

“I…I have never spoken more sincerely to a person in my life, but you thought I was just speaking like I would at any board meeting?”

God, now she’d really screwed up – and this time she could lay the blame on no one but herself.

“Jumin, please, look at me?”

He wouldn’t, just sat on the edge of the couch, his elbows on his knees, staring at the book shelf across the aisle.

Perhaps a little supplication was in order; she still felt that him leaving her at the theater was a hole it would take him a while to dig out of, but that didn’t mean she should treat him callously when it cost him so much to make these admissions.

She got up, and knelt in front of him. He straightened in surprise, but she leaned forward, taking his face in her hands. “Please, Jumin, I’m sorry – that’s not what I meant at all. I just meant you express yourself beautifully, and I…do not. Obviously.” She kissed him softly, and was relieved when he relaxed enough to kiss her back.

“This is part of the problem,” he murmured. “I have never been…sensitive. About anything anyone says to me, or about me. I’ve taken all of it with a grain of salt. But…you…”

Despite what he’d told her, she was shocked to note that his voice shook slightly.

“Jumin?”

“You have the ability to hurt me,” he whispered. “And I don’t like it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, thinking of Jihyun. She should just end this right now – there was no way Jumin was going to be okay with what was happening with her and Jihyun. She had no right to expect that. And here he was, telling her she was the only person who could hurt him; well, it would do nothing but hurt him in the long run if she tried to keep him on a string.

“I’m sorry if what I’ve told you makes you uncomfortable,” he said, noticing the pain in her face.

 _Let him go,_ her rational mind whispered. _Let him go now before it’s too late for him—_

“I never _want_ to hurt you, Jumin.” It was true, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t. She really should cut him loose, not let this go any further…

But…could she make that decision, right now? Could she decide, in this instant, that she wanted to be with Jihyun instead? What if she chose wrong?

Her stomach turned over, the import of this decision settling heavy inside her, weighing her down. She sat back, shoulders rounding in defeat.

“Zhara…what’s wrong? Have I said something to upset you? Well, I suppose I’ve said quite a lot that might upset you—”

“No, Jumin. No.” She shook her head weakly. “It’s not…that.” She took a deep breath. Either she told him, or the moment would pass, and she might have to look back on this moment with regret later on.

But she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t end this right now, not when it was finally, truly beginning.

She raised up again, on her knees, her eyes meeting his.

“Jumin…if I can hurt you…doesn’t that mean I can also do the opposite?”

“Yes, but…”

“Then I’ll try to do that, from now on. As much as I can. I know we’ll argue, and I know you’ll get mad at me sometimes, and vice versa. But if I do have control over how you feel, then I want to do my best to…use that power to make you happy.”

He stared at her for one second before she found herself enfolded in his arms; she thought she felt a little hitch in his breath as he crushed her to him.

“Zhara…thank you.” He squeezed her extra tight for a moment, a little groan rumbling through him. “God…thank you for listening to me, I was so afraid you wouldn’t…”

“Why did you keep coming back?” she whispered. If that had been her, if their situations had been reversed, she likely would have given up a long time ago.

“I couldn’t help myself. I had to see you…and you wouldn’t talk to me otherwise. That first night, after I left I like I was losing my mind…”

“I’m sorry I treated you the way I did, Jumin. You tried to explain to me then, and I didn’t let you, I just—”

“Please don’t feel you have to apologize for that. I admit, I was hurt by it. But I deserved that, after what I did to you.”

She sighed. “Perhaps. But my motives were far from logical.”

“Do you care to enlighten me?”

Her face grew hot, and she looked down, her hand tracing the patterns on his sweater. “I think I sort of…saw what you talked about before, all that emotion. I saw it in you, and I wanted to see it again, and I…thought if I provoked you, that would bring it out.”

He pondered this. “You were right, in a way.”

“Yes, but that was a really dishonest way to go about…getting you to show more emotion with me.”

“Hmm. Maybe, but…Zhara…” he put a finger under her chin, lifting it, forcing her to look at him again.

“I don’t think I’ve yet explained to you…” he shook his head, and almost laughed, before threading his fingers through her hair. “If you ever wanted to make me emotional all you have to do is dance again.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, one of the many worries plaguing her mind freeing itself from the knot and floating away. But it also reminded her…

“I felt so ashamed,” she whispered, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “It felt like this gift I’d created had been reduced to…some slutty burlesque that I’d used to seduce you.”

“I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered vehemently. “Please believe me when I tell you it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been witness to. It was like…watching flowers bloom, watching…colors come into existence before my eyes.”

Such words of praise in that smooth, honeyed voice…she smiled, really smiled – this was what she’d hoped for when she decided to dance for him. Well, she never could have imagined what lovely things he would say, but…

“Thank you, Jumin. It makes me happy…that you enjoyed it.”

“Zhara, would you…would you consider dancing for me again? Whenever you’re ready, I won’t push you.”

Her smile turned impish. “I would, but some rich jerk just bought my practice theater.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jumin told her on the way back that he liked the book store so much he wanted to set up a room in his apartment to be similar. She scoffed, laughing at the idea of such a cozy, somewhat shabby space somehow making its home in what must be the poshest penthouse apartment in the city.

“Hmm. You’re right, perhaps I should just buy the book store.”

“You know, I’m getting better at it, but sometimes I still can’t tell when you’re joking.”

“What is funny about C&R purchasing a business?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you dare. I don’t want it turned into some corporate megastore.”

He sighed, but kept a straight face. “There is no pleasing you.”

An abrupt and unexpected demon prompted her to lean across the seat and whisper into his ear. “I’ll tell you what would please me…”

He gave a little cough, and she laughed delightedly. “I’m kidding,” she admitted, keeping her voice down. “I’m not inviting you up, not this time.”

“Disappointing. However…would you consider paying a visit to the poshest apartment in the city?”

She blinked. “I…that’s probably not a good idea, I mean—”

He leaned toward her this time. “We could order dinner. And breakfast. And perhaps dinner again…”

She flushed, her whole body increasing a few degrees in temperature in the space of one second.

“Jumin, I can’t just…go to your apartment, I mean won’t people know?”

“That is possible. And I still do not want to damage your reputation, but…would it be so bad? For the public to know…that you’re mine?”

She gasped. After all he’d said she supposed she should expect him to ‘claim’ her, but she was still shocked; admitting to everyone that they were ‘together’ was momentous.

And it also…meant that she would have to tell Jihyun…

“Not yet,” she replied, shaking her head. “I…I would have to get my things together, make plans to…to…”

“If you don’t feel comfortable with people knowing, I will respect that.” He only sounded a trifle stiff. But she sighed.

“No, Jumin. I mean…I don’t _relish_ having half the female population of the country wanting to gouge my eyes out, but I’ll get over it.”

“Surely half is a slight exaggeration.”

She snorted. “Very funny.” She paused, trying to think it through. Could she? What was stopping her?

Jihyun’s feelings, that was what. But he wouldn’t begrudge her reconciling with Jumin; he’d told her he wanted her to, encouraged her even…

Perhaps she did need to let him know what happened…but she could also tell him she had no plans to break anything off with him, not yet.

She sighed. “Alright, just…let me pack. And let me take a cab!”

“That hardly seems necessary—”

“Jumin!”

He sighed. “Fine.” He looked down, then back up at her, and put his hand on her knee. Then slid it up a few inches, a few inches more. She bit her lip as he leaned in again.

“It would…make me happy…if you wanted to bring mostly dresses to wear while you stay at my apartment,” he murmured, his voice like an aural pheromone that set her blood on fire.

“H-how long do you think…” she swallowed, attempted to control the extremely breathy nature of her voice. Unsuccessfully. “Do you think I’m staying there?”

“If it were up to me I would move you in right now.”

“Jumin!" He glanced at the front seat, then back to her, and her cheeks went even redder, but she lowered her voice. “I can’t just move in with you, that’s crazy!”

“Perhaps it only makes sense because I’m crazy about you.”

She laughed delightedly at this; for some reason such a melodramatic statement in that warm but very collected tone of voice struck her as adorably absurd.

“Your laugh…”  A smile hovered about his lips. “What is the phrase in urban dictionary? It waters my crops and clears my skin.”

This brought forth another peal, and, still chuckling, she leaned over and kissed him.

“You’re very cute, Jumin.”

“Hmm,” he replied doubtfully.

# ***

Zhara paced back and forth with the phone in her hand, her stomach practically cramping she was so anxious. Should she call him? Text him? What was she going to tell him – all of it? Some of it? Would he be upset, sad, jealous? Or just happy for her? Probably the latter, most of all; he was the most selfless person she’d ever met, so he’d likely put her well-being over his no matter what happened.

Finally she called him – she’d wasted enough time packing one overnight bag, she should probably leave soon…

“I assume you have updates,” he asked immediately. His attentive voice nearly did her in, and she sat heavily on the side of the bed.

The bed where they’d made love just a couple days ago…

Suddenly she was crying. “I’m sorry, Jihyun, I’m so sorry—”

“Why are you sorry? Are you alright? What—”

“I’m fine,” she sniffed, trying to get a hold of herself. “I’m fine, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just…”

“You’ve made up with him?”

She made a little sound that he correctly interpreted as confirmation.

“Good.”

“But Jihyun, you…you can’t really have wanted me to…continue a relationship with him!”

“I want whatever makes you happy.”

She groaned. “Stop being so god damned perfect, it’s only making this harder for me!”

“I apologize for disappointing you. Would you rather I railed at you in jealousy?”

“No, no, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that.” She was so awful, talking to him that way when he was only doing exactly what she’d known he would, and what made him _him_. “But you can’t always put others before yourself, you have to want something independent of what I want, don’t you?”

He was silent for long enough that she looked at the phone to make sure it was still connected.

“Of course I do,” he finally replied, his voice rough, almost unfamiliar.

“Jihyun?”

“What I want is impossible. Well, the thing I want most is unlikely. The thing I would be almost as happy with is impossible. Therefore, those options being unavailable, I will settle for your happiness instead.”

She felt as if she’d been gutted. He was always putting others first – Rika, the RFA, herself. And she’d never once heard him admit that he had wishes of his own that ran counter to those of the people he cared about.

Her tears resurfaced, but she managed to speak with only a slight waver in her voice. “Jihyun…tell me what your wishes are.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It will only lead to you being uncomfortable and me regretting it. Please do not ask me to.”

She sighed. “How do you _know_ it’s impossible? Is it impossible because of me? Shouldn’t you ask me first?”

“Zhara, _please_.”

“Alright. I’m sorry. Listen, I’m going to Jumin’s for a couple days.”

“…his penthouse?”

She said nothing.

“I see.”

“Please don’t be angry with me—”

“Do I sound angry? I’m not. I’m happy that you two are done hurting each other.”

“Thank you. But I just want to make sure you know…it doesn’t mean I…” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

“I understand. But may I ask a favor?”

“Of course.”

“This is selfish of me, but—”

“Jihyun! You’re incapable of selfishness. Spit it out.”

He gave a brief chuckle. “Very well. If at some point you feel…compelled to make a decision. About us. I hope you will give me the chance to influence that decision as you are doing with Jumin.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“If you feel like you’re leaning in the direction of staying with Jumin, and only Jumin, permanently, I want you to come here. First. Just for a day or two. So I can try to change your mind.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment she couldn’t answer him. This was the most complicated situation she’d ever been in in her life; not only on the surface, but things like this…

Jihyun asking her to let him win her love - it was sad, troubling, and gratifying all at once. For one moment she wanted nothing more than to take her bags and go to his house instead of Jumin’s apartment.

But then her feelings for Jumin came roaring back to the forefront, and her stomach roiled along with them, her insides feeling as if they were joining in a violent conflict.

Would this ever end? Would it ever be calm, just…normal feelings, in her heart, for one person? She felt almost sad, thinking about that, knowing that whoever was edged out of her heart would have their own damaged irreparably.

But she owed Jihyun an answer.

“I will absolutely do as you ask, Jihyun. And I…I love that you asked me.”

“Have fun, jagiya – and maybe teach him a thing or two, hmm?”

“Oh _god_ , we are not having this conversation—”

He laughed out loud. “I’m sorry, I’m only teasing you. But again I’ll say, don’t worry about me, and call me if you need me, alright?”

“I will. Good night.”

Once she hung up, her stomach lurched yet again; she hoped she wasn’t going to start losing weight given how little she’d been able to eat lately. She hadn’t danced for a couple weeks, had only gone running in the nearby park two or three times. She’d have to rectify that soon; she couldn’t keep going without exercise. It might be part of the reason she felt so…pent up, and tense.

She picked up her bag, slung her purse over her shoulder, and headed down the stairs, using a taxi app to call a taxi to take her to Jumin’s on the way down.

Jumin had some explaining to do about the theater; he’d said some cryptic things about his plans for it, but changed the subject when she pressed him. She’d get the answer out of him sooner or later.

She’d have quite a few opportunities over the next couple days, no doubt.


	6. Chapter 6

An hour later, Zhara was on the way to the top floor of Jumin’s building, accompanied by his chief of security. Not exactly the most relaxed elevator ride, she thought wryly, her eyes on the man’s imposing reflection in the metal doors. But he seemed nice enough, if a little uptight.

She’d thought Jumin was on the 63rd floor – the top floor – but when the elevator stopped they were on the 50th. Bemused but content to go along with her escort, she followed him out and across the hall to a different elevator. This one was even nicer than the first, all wood paneling and fancy brass accents. She stood in awkward silence as it smoothly lifted them to the floor in question, and when they got off she was surprised to see nothing but one long hallway down to a small antechamber, and what appeared to be Jumin’s front door.

The security guard gestured for her to walk ahead; she did, feeling very conspicuous, until Jumin himself opened the door and came out to meet her.

He held a quiet conversation with his chief of security, while Zhara stood by, a little dazed, as if she were in some strange fantastic dream.

Jumin took her bag from the other man, after which he headed back to the elevator, and Jumin ushered her inside.

“I…no one else lives on this floor?” she asked faintly.

“There are two tenants that occupy the other half of this floor. They have a different elevator.”

“Oh.”

“Did you…have an uneventful ride over? No problems with your taxi?”

She shook her head. Maybe this had been a bad idea…looking around at his swanky apartment, she suddenly felt grossly out of place.

Floors of polished marble, a huge and no doubt exorbitantly expensive TV hung next to a huge and also expensive fish tank in the corner. The back wall was all glass, leading out to a large balcony. The twinkling lights of the city were visible in the distance.

The kitchen was to the left, and to the right a door that seemed to lead to the rest of the apartment.

This room alone was nearly twice as big as her own apartment, and maybe three times as large as the one she’d lived in before that.

She swallowed, her heart racing with nerves.

“Zhara? Are you alright? I had your favorite wine brought up, the Sauvignon Blanc you liked at that restaurant—”

Suddenly she exhaled, sagging a little bit. A little chuckle escaped her, and she walked to Jumin and put her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered, and kissed him on the cheek.

“What was that for?”

“Jumin Han remembering my favorite wine because I told him one single time…just reminded me of why I’m here,” she explained with a little smile.

“Hmm. Do I not usually remember things?”

“You remember all sorts of things. But it’s very sweet nonetheless.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He lifted her purse from her arm and hung it on a coat rack in the hall.

“But Jumin, where’s Elizabeth?”

He smiled a little, and nodded toward the door to the hall. “She’s incarcerated in the other side of the apartment at the moment, I didn’t want her getting nervous over your arrival and possibly running out the door. She’s never done that before, but…should I let her out now? I’m sure she’s going to stare at me judgmentally for a good several hours regardless.”

Zhara giggled. “It would be an honor to meet the world renowned Elizabeth 3rd, but I hope she doesn’t hate me for causing her to be quarantined in her own house…”

“She may be aloof, but don’t be concerned, she’ll warm up to you with time. At least…I think she will – she’s quite fond of Jihyun, and Jaehee.”

Zhara managed to repress any reaction at mention of Jihyun. ”I see – well, let’s get the introductions underway, then.”

Jumin walked to the door, pressed a little metal plate on it, and it slid open.

“What is this, Star Trek?” Zhara mumbled, shaking her head.

Jumin didn’t notice, too busy kneeling down to dote on his princess, who was chirping at him in remonstrance.

“Yes, I’m very sorry Elizabeth, it was very gothic of me to lock you up.” He came as close as she’d ever heard to cooing.

Her heart flipped over. She’d wondered how he acted with Elizabeth, in the flesh so to speak, and had been a little nervous that his manner with his cat might be off putting. But instead she found it unbearably cute. Of _course_.

She slowly approached them, and the cat’s gaze turned towards her. Blinking.

Zhara had had cats before, and she blinked back, then knelt a few feet away, holding out her hand.

Immediately Elizabeth abandoned her owner to investigate the newcomer.

Time seemed to slow as the fluffy cat sniffed Zhara’s hand, and Zhara held her breath, waiting for a sign of approval, or the opposite. What would she do if Jumin’s precious cat hated her? A catastrophe…

The tense silence was broken when Elizabeth shoved her head against Zhara’s hand with a happy little noise. Zhara laughed with delight, and was immediately subjected to a close inspection, including lots of head-butting, sniffing, and adorable cat noises.

Jumin stood. “Clearly I’m not needed at the moment,” he said dolefully. “I’ll just get the wine…”

Suddenly Zhara noticed he was still in his outfit from earlier; shoes, sweater, everything.

“Don’t you…relax when you get home?” she asked as he went to the wine refrigerator in his absurdly posh kitchen.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Well…you’re still fully dressed…”

“I suppose I could have gotten naked in anticipation of your visit but I thought you might not appreciate that,” he said nonchalantly as he pulled the cork from the bottle.

She immediately turned beet red and put a hand over her eyes – she would have put both, but Elizabeth had her paws on one of them. “Hush! That’s not what I meant—”

“I knew you were coming over, Zhara, I was hardly going to walk around in my pajamas with you on the way.”

She could tell he’d come closer, but didn’t move her hand. “Oh.”

He pulled her fingers away and closed them around the glass, and when she opened her eyes, he was standing over her, smiling. “Whenever you decide I’m worth your interest again,” he suggested, and nodded towards the sofa.

“I suppose I could let her be for a few minutes,” Zhara lamented. When she stood, Elizabeth pranced off to the kitchen where her food apparently resided, and paid the two humans no further attention.

Jumin pulled Zhara to the couch, and she obediently sat down on it.

Then tossed back the entire contents of her glass in one draft.

When she set it on the table, he was regarding her with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you nervous?” he inquired a little skeptically.

“How could I not be?”

He set his own drink on the table, untouched, and suddenly Zhara felt like the temperature in the room rose by 8 degrees.

“It seems impossible that the same woman that poured her soul out on stage for me a few weeks ago could now be nervous about sitting on my couch,” he explained smoothly, closing in on her, then leaning in; she didn’t try to back away – couldn’t, the arm of the sofa was behind her.

“I…that’s different,” she answered breathlessly.

“Or the woman that unbuttoned my pants in her apartment hallway,” he added softly, his lips very close to her neck, but not touching her, not yet.

“Ungentlemanly of you to remind me of that,” she protested weakly.

“I apologize.” His hand slid around the other side of her neck, behind it, into her hair. “What would you prefer that I speak of?” His lips very lightly brushed her skin.

She couldn’t answer, couldn’t think. “I…”

“Yes, my Zhara?” Now he fully kissed her neck, and she gasped as shards of lightning ignited along her skin. He traced his lips along her collarbone, up to her jaw.

Finally, claimed her mouth, and she surrendered to him with a little noise of capitulation that seemed to incite him kiss her even more intently.

But after just a few short minutes, he pulled away, leaving her heart pounding, her face flushed.

“What’s wrong?” She gazed into his metallic eyes, hoping she hadn’t done something wrong.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make this about…that. But something about you makes me lose all reason…”

He kissed her again, and this time she pulled at his sweater, until he leaned back and pulled it off.

She remembered that night on the bridge – another soft shirt, another sweater…

She stopped.

“Jumin,” she breathed. “You’re right.” She was proud she’d managed to say it. “We have to stop. If this is what we immediately do, what we always do, isn’t that what we are?”

He leaned back, and pulled her with him so they were sitting more upright again. Then he pulled her against his chest. “Not necessarily, but yes, our…history makes things difficult, it’s better not to complicate them further.”

She almost choked when she thought of how much further complicated all this really was, than he even realized. But now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“I’m not saying I want to wait forever,” she mumbled, snuggling up to him. “Or even…that long,” she admitted, her face flaming for a moment. “But maybe we should just…talk, first. I don’t know.”

“Of course.”

Neither of them said anything for a minute.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Tell me more about the theater.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about that.”

She leaned back, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “That’s the second time you’ve dodged it, Jumin. What’s going on?”

He reached past her and picked up his glass from the coffee table, and drank quite a bit of it.

“I…made a grave error in judgment when I bought the theater.”

She raised an eyebrow. Well, she could have told him that – there were a miniscule amount of reasons why he could have bought it that would make sense to her.

“You…you didn’t really intend to turn it into a boutique cat theater, did you?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

He sighed. “That would be better, honestly. I…I was hoping we wouldn’t have to talk about it until later; I didn’t want your first night here marred by an argument.”

She got up and took both their glasses into the kitchen. But he followed.

He showed her where he’d put the bottle, and she brought it to the counter. But before she could pour, he was behind her.

“Allow me,” he murmured, and reached around her to pour; her heart hammered mercilessly, its fervent pounding echoing between her legs.

And that was before he set down the bottle, and moved his hands to her hips, pressing into her as his lips brushed the shell of her ear.

“J-jumin…” She had no defense against him…

“You know…when you say my name like that…it makes it very difficult for me to resist you…”

“I’m not trying to—”

“I know. You might remember how hard I was when you _were_ trying.”

She whimpered. Oh, she remembered…

He put a hand on the small of her back, and slid it up, exerting gentle pressure as he did, leaning her over the counter, and she let him – her mind might be telling her to slow down with him, but her body had other ideas, and seemed eager to do whatever he wanted.

Like when her hands found the edge of the counter, and she pushed back against him.

“Zhara—” His deep, smooth voice was almost pained, and his hand tightened on her hip bone—

“Mmrrwww?” came an unexpected noise, right in Zhara’s ear.

She collapsed onto the counter, startled for exactly one second before emitting an unladylike chortle.

“Ahh! Oh god, thank you Elizabeth! You’re the best chaperone a girl could ask for!”

Jumin’s face was a storm cloud. “I have never been so out of favor with you, Elizabeth 3rd.”

Elizabeth chirped and sniffed the wine bottle.

Zhara giggled and gave Elizabeth some cuddles. “At least we have you here to keep us honest.”

Jumin rolled his eyes. “We _are_ adults, you know—”

“Except we both JUST said we were going to slow down and then did the opposite.”

“Hmm. Good point. Thank you, Elizabeth.”

“Mmrroww?”

Zhara picked up their glasses and went back to the living area. “Besides, I know you were just trying to seduce your way out of telling me the truth about the theater.”

“Zhara…I’ll tell you. If you promise me something.”

She tilted her head.

“You can feel free to get angry with me – I wouldn’t blame you. But please don’t leave. Until we’ve talked about it.”

“I’m not a child, Jumin, we can have an argument without me…fine. I promise.” It was no use countering that she wouldn’t just leave in the middle of an argument; she’d ignored him on many occasions and also used sex to cut off his explanations, so she didn’t exactly have a history of maturity where he was concerned.

He sat, and turned towards her on the sofa.

“I suppose I should just give you the facts then.”

“Please do.”

“I bought the theater for you.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I’d seen it, and I thought, at the time, that if I fixed it for you…but as I said, a grave error in judgment.” He looked up from where’d he’d been staring at his glass. “You’re…not going to slap me?”

No, she definitely wasn’t going to slap him. But she hardly knew what to do, how to feel. A couple months ago, she would have been indignant, at the least. ‘How dare Jumin try to use his money to impress her, how idiotic – and useless.’ But now…

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

He set his glass down, and took her hands. “This is not the reaction I expected. You’re not angry with me? You’re not going to scold me for throwing my money away? For using my money to gain your favor? Nothing?”

She smiled sadly. “No, Jumin. I just…”

Suddenly she had an almost overwhelming compulsion to tell him about Jihyun. He deserved to know the truth, especially now that she knew…he had feelings for her even before the first time he’d kissed her in that theater. That he’d made an attempt – misguided, but still with good intentions – to do something nice for her, as long ago as that.

It changed things.

But now was the worst possible time to mention another man; she was at Jumin’s house, they’d just repaired their trust for one another, or started to. A confession like that would immediately break what they’d just put back together.

“Thank you,” she said instead.

“Zhara, you’re worrying me. Are you alright? Why are you so sad? It’s unlike you.”

She closed her eyes for a second. It wasn’t unlike her; Jihyun would know that. But Jumin didn’t. Why was this happening…

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I expected you to tell me, but that wasn’t it,” she answered, which wasn’t a lie, at least. “So you…you bought it for me, but what were you going to _do_ with it?”

“Renovate it,” he said promptly. “And…”

“And?”

“If you didn’t slap me before, I should probably prepare myself.”

“Jumin, just _tell me_.”

“I planned to propose that C&R invest in an arts department that would support up and coming artists at that venue – musicians, painters, photographers…and…dancers. One in particular.”

She sat, stunned, barely retaining the presence of mind to hold onto her wine glass.

He’d bought an entire theater, not just to...impress her. But to help her. To give her what she wanted – the opportunity to dance by herself, without a company that she could never maintain a place in for long, without their bullshit rules and traditions.

She was glad she hadn’t found out what he was going to do back then. She would have thrown it in his face, rudely refused his help. It occurred to her briefly that Zen had done the exact same; but she didn’t think Jumin’s offer, then, was made in the same spirit.

She cleared her throat, and set her glass on the table carefully. “Jumin, could you do me a favor, and escort Elizabeth 3rd back into the other part of the house for a minute?”

His eyes widened slightly. “Oh. You’re afraid she’ll be anxious when you start yelling at me.” He got up, and she pursed her lips, determined not to smile, not yet, and said nothing. “That’s…very considerate of you. Just a moment.”

He called Elizabeth, who miraculously, for a cat, came running from the kitchen, and ran through the door as requested. Had he trained her? She’d thought that was virtually impossible…

She got up, went to stand behind Jumin, and as soon as he’d closed the door, she surprised him by slipping her arms around his waist.

And unbuttoning his shirt.

“I’m not going to yell at you, Jumin,” she murmured, voice husky, as she slowly unfastened each button. He stood still, but she could feel his heart racing under her hands.

She pulled the shirt off, tossed it aside, and ran her hands up his chest, resting her cheek against his back.

“W-what…”

She didn’t know if she’d ever heard him so bewildered, and she grinned.

When she kissed his back, and her hands lowered to the button of his pants, he gasped.

“I’ll explain it later,” she murmured as she slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Zhara—ah!” She wrapped her hand around him, stroking lightly for a moment, and he put his own hand against the door frame for support, his breaths growing ragged.

She pulled his length free of his underwear, and swiftly circled him.

Then she knelt.

“Zhara, what have I done to— _god—”_ His words devolved into a tortured cry when she put her mouth on him.

She was sure Jumin had received plenty of blow jobs – even if he hadn’t gone so far as to sleep with that many women, with the amount of females that were constantly after him it seemed likely quite a lot of them had offered him this…easy favor.

But his emphatic reaction seemed to say otherwise.

His free hand went to her head, fingers threading through her hair, gripping it a little too tightly – but she couldn’t lie, it just aroused her more.

Her fingers wrapped around the base, she took more and more of him into her mouth, little by little, swirling her tongue around his tip each time she pulled back. His breaths came in near-whimpers, each one catalyzing her already rampant desire.

When she finally drew almost all of him in, she gave a hum of satisfaction, enjoying the heat, the weight of him, his pulse against her tongue.

He moaned in response, his hand tightening, pushing just a little deeper into her mouth. She looked up at him, and if she thought his face was painted with lust the first time they’d had sex, now, it was…

She kept her eyes on his – not too easy, given the angle – as she slowly moved her hand away from his manhood. She slid both of her hands up to grasp his hips, and gradually moved her lips further and further down…

Until his length filled the back of her throat, and every inch of him was inside her mouth. He groaned, but she couldn’t even make a noise, couldn’t breathe; she felt him swell, and pulled back half an inch to suck in a quick breath before he thrust himself into her mouth again—

He tensed, his length growing impossibly hard against her tongue, and then his heat filled her mouth, slipping down her throat, accompanied by his agonized cry. When she swallowed he cried out again…

After a few seconds he relaxed, and she took a deep, shuddering breath, then slowly slid her mouth off him – she was careful, but even so he twitched a little as she withdrew…especially when she licked the last drop of his heat from his tip, before standing up and pulling his underwear and pants back into place.

She closed her eyes and wiped her smiling lips, with another little purr of gratification.

She figured he would be pleased – naturally – but she was surprised when he pulled her against him in a nearly rib-crushing embrace. He was still breathing heavily, as he stroked her hair, his other arm tight around her. She managed to get her arms around his waist, and just waited for him to be ready to explain himself.

Zhara couldn’t help but have a brief flashback to the other times she’d done this; those ‘awful boyfriends’ that Jihyun had mentioned had been eager to receive such favors and reluctant to give them in return, so she’d gotten some practice. She’d thought this scenario was normal, but Jihyun’s attitude seemed to indicate otherwise.

And now Jumin…was so clearly affected by what she’d done…apparently she needed to rethink some things.

Jumin seemed to be calming a little, and finally released her, but still kept an arm loosely around her. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed gustily.

“I…that was…well.”

She giggled – Jumin being at a loss for words was a great delight to her.

“Could we…go to bed?” he asked tentatively; quiet, hopeful.

She nodded, and he quickly grabbed her bag, and opened the door to the hallway again.

Elizabeth 3rd sat, peering at them, just on the other side of the door.

“Elizabeth, am I going to have to send you to Jaehee’s?” Jumin scolded, and Zhara pursed her lips.

“She really is too young to be exposed to umm…”

“Just so. She is only three years of age.”

Zhara snorted. “Shame on you for eavesdropping, Elizabeth-chan.”

Jumin turned to Zhara with a raised eyebrow, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Sorry! It’s…it’s from a show.”

“I…suppose it’s not exactly insulting…”

“Of course not! I would never address the Princess with anything less than the greatest respect,” Zhara insisted solemnly.

“Well, I’m sorry to tell the Princess that she is henceforth banished from the bedroom,” he intoned as he walked down the hall. But then he stopped. Glanced back at Zhara.

“That is…I suppose I should not take it for granted that you wish to sleep in my room. I do have others, if that’s what you would prefer—”

“No, I…” suddenly she felt terribly shy. And nervous again. It didn’t make sense; she wasn’t some inexperienced teenager, and she wasn’t even shy by nature. She cleared her throat, and met his eyes. “I do want to sleep in your room. With you.”

Did she imagine the flush in his cheeks? Perhaps, but she didn’t imagine his soft smile as he carried her bag into his room.

She stopped in the doorway. “Umm…wow. It’s very…”

She swallowed when she realized he was watching her as he set her bag on the dresser. _Don’t say anything insulting, Zhara…_

“It’s very modern,” she managed.

The floors were covered in textured white carpet; white walls, white bed coverings, white curtains. The furniture was of a pale golden wood, very streamlined. An enormous platform bed with a slatted headboard dominated the huge space. The one discordant feature – and the one she most liked – was a book case in the corner, filled with all manner of books, definitely not put there just for aesthetics.

“You don’t like it.”

“No, I…it’s fine. It suits you.” She bit her lip, immediately feeling this was a lie; it did fit the Jumin that everyone else saw, but not the one she now knew lay underneath.

“It has never bothered me before, an interior designer came up with it, but…”

She looked questioningly at him.

“I find myself a little embarrassed of it now.”

“What? Why?”

He came towards her, took her hands. Stared at them as he spoke. “Because you’re so full of color and brightness, and this space seems so bland next to you.”

She smiled at his serious consideration of the room, and slid her arms around his neck.

“It’s fine, Jumin…” _Don’t get distracted by his bare chest, don’t get distracted—_

He was so warm, his muscles so firm…but no; she could wait. She kissed his cheek and released him, then headed towards the bathroom on the other side of the room, grabbing some things from her bag on the way.

The bathroom, too, was very luxuriously appointed…if you considered a space station luxurious, she thought wryly. At least there were some rather industrial fixtures to give it some interest.

But when she closed the door, she sat on the edge of the tub for a minute, a little dazed.

A thousand conflicting thoughts wove through her mind.

Her mother would have been so proud of her – landing the Director of C&R. Rich, handsome, smart. Coveted. She missed her mother, now that she resided in a different country with her aunt, and they didn’t talk often, but….she was almost glad she didn’t have to endure the woman’s likely congratulatory attitude over her daughter’s romantic choices.

She felt a little as if she’d betrayed herself, dating Jumin; she’d always said she would never follow in her mother’s footsteps, she would be independent, make it on her own. Never rely on a man, especially for money. And over the years she’d only become more and more entrenched in her dislike of wealth and how it made a person act.

But wasn’t it more mature to judge someone based on their personality alone, and especially their kindness, and their willingness to listen to others’ opinions?

And then there was Jihyun…she hated the thought of him sitting at home, imagining what she and Jumin were doing – then again, perhaps that’s just what _she_ would do in a similar situation. In fact, she knew it was. But Jihyun was different; certainly from herself, but also from anyone she’d ever met. Perhaps he really wouldn’t let it bother him. She hoped that might be the case; she felt bad enough about it for the both of them, despite his reassurances.

But she couldn’t let thoughts of Jihyun intrude on her time with Jumin. She’d told Jumin she would come here, stay with him, and she shouldn’t insult him by concentrating more on another man while she was here, whether he knew about it or not.

She squeezed her eyes shut. _I’m sorry, Jihyun, but I have to get you out of my head for now. It’s not fair to him, just as it’s not fair to you if I’m constantly dwelling on Jumin while we’re together._

She knew she couldn’t prevent herself from thinking of him from time to time, but she’d do her best to limit her brain’s distraction.

She looked at the pajamas in her hand. Should she have brought…fancier things? She didn’t really have any pretty lingerie – bras and underwear, yes, the nicest of which she’d been careful to pack. But no…corsets, no revealing nighties, no sophisticated peignoirs.

Suddenly she felt gauche. Jumin had never seen what she slept in; the first time he’d come over, she was in regular underwear, and the second time she’d been wearing a casual dress – thus facilitating the…’physical argument’ she’d instigated.

Wouldn’t he want her to wear something…beautiful? Something more befitting their first night together? Wouldn’t he expect her to come out in a sexy lacy number?

She bit her lip, hard. She would not cry about this, it was stupid. She would just have to explain to him – why would she have anything like that? She’d been single for a long time, and even before that she’d never really had lingerie…

She sullenly put on the pajamas – at least they were cute shorts and a lace-trimmed tank top, and she hadn’t brought an old t-shirt or something equally awful – and then brushed her teeth. But when she got done and looked in the mirror, her face fell, and she couldn’t prevent a few tears from escaping.

She was so plain. Such a…pebble, next to Jumin and his sophistication and refinement. She usually had little issue with her self esteem; her face was alright, her figure was nice, if a little on the lean side due to her dancing…but now…

She sighed heavily, tossed her toothbrush back into her makeup bag, and opened the door.

Jumin sat on the near side of the bed, wearing a no-doubt expensive t-shirt (that did nothing to hide the subtle angles of his muscles) and a new pair of underwear.

Zhara didn’t look at him, just replaced her things in her bag and started to walk around the other side of the bed.

He stopped her. “Zhara? You seem very sad, do you…want to go home?”

“No,” she answered quickly, but her voice wavered. “But Jumin, are you…are you sure I should be here?”

“You’re feeling uncomfortable. I knew it. Please let me know what you want, I can arrange anything—”

“No, that’s not it. I just…” Her face flamed, and she stared at her hand, which was making circles on the smooth surface of the dresser. She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t think of an excuse for her discomfiture in such a short space of time. Her voice wavering just a bit, she finally said it. “I’m not good enough for you, Jumin.”

“You…what? Zhara, my god—”

In a second she was against his chest, and he held her there as if she were in imminent danger of being dragged away.

“All this time,” he said softly, his cheek against her hair, “I assumed you were so perfectly self-assured, so confident in your talent, your beauty.”

“You’re just being nice…”

“I am never just nice.” He had a point. “Why would you think such a thing about yourself? Is it just…the money issue, because that is completely irrelevant—”

“It’s not exactly that.” Her reply was muffled in his shirt – which she was now noticing was even softer than the button-down he’d worn earlier, and smelled…like him…

Her arms went around him. “Don’t you want someone who’s…elegant? And…and sexy?”

Her brow lowered when he chuckled. “Hey!” she protested.

“I’m sorry…I laugh only because of the overwhelming irony…”

“I don’t get it.”

“The completeness with which you are unaware of your own charms is very endearing to me.”

She blinked.

“Zhara…” he loosened his grip so he could lean back and look at her. “The way you…walk across a room, is the epitome of elegance, of grace. There’s so much loveliness in you it sort of settles around you like a cloud. An aura of allure.”

Her eyes were wide, her cheeks once again rosy. He was so serious…and sincere that she could almost feel it as a physical caress.

“Jumin…”

“Are you afraid I’m using my business charm again?”

“No,” she whispered. “But…I think you see me that way only because…”

Suddenly she realized what she’d been about to say, and hastily changed direction. “I don’t know, you just have a…a fixation, or something,” she mumbled lamely, looking away.

“No,” he murmured, leaning in, turning her face back towards his so he could kiss her.

His lips met hers without urgency but with something else, something deeper than what had passed between them before. Something heavy, meaningful. She was glad he still had his arms around her; her fingers dug into his back for purchase, her knees suddenly weak.

“You could be right,” he breathed against her lips. “Perhaps I do see you differently. But it is not a fixation.”

His mouth moved to her neck, and a little whimper escaped her as his lips caressed her…

His voice was warm honey, his breath tickling her ear.

“I love you, Zhara.”


	7. Chapter 7

Zhara didn’t know whether to laugh, or cry. It was so beautiful, so perfect, so unpardonably sweet – and she didn’t deserve it.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love him – she did. Had known it for some time, even before they’d reconciled. But she didn’t _just_ love _him_.

But no – it would cause him no end of pain if she let that thought color her response to him now. She had to focus on him – he’d poured his heart out to her, and she couldn’t ruin it.

She held him tight, not wanting to chance him noticing the glimmer of pain in her eyes when she said it. “I love you, too, Jumin.”

He sat down on the bed, slowly, without releasing his hold on her. A little hitch in his breathing caused her heart to thud dangerously – it seemed impossible that this calm, collected man could have held such depth of emotion, so raw and intense.

“I love you,” she repeated, “and I think it’s the greatest gift I’ve ever received to be able to see your heart. That heart that I thought was locked behind a wall of ice…I was so wrong. And I’m sorry—”

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head against her chest. “You weren’t wrong. I just needed you to help me. To push me, make me change.”

He looked up at her. “I don’t know if I even realized why I kept saying it, before, or if you even noticed – but I _do_ need you, Zhara.”

“I did notice, but I didn’t understand. Now I do.”

She cradled his head against her, standing there between his knees in his pristine bedroom.

Then she laughed, and kissed the top of his head.

“Can you imagine what we would have said, if someone had told us, say, at the party, that this would happen?”

He chuckled and squeezed her a little tighter. “Hmm, it would have seemed like some farfetched fantasy – something out of one of Zen’s musicals.”

“Not to say, though, that I hadn’t _noticed_ how attractive you were, before then,” she mused almost to herself. “In fact it rather infuriated me.”

“Why would my attractiveness make you angry?”

“Because how dare you be such a jerk and yet be so hot at the same time!”

He sighed. “I feel I should apologize for how I’ve spoken to you on several occasions—”

“There’s no need for that.”

“But I also think…ice prince will likely not be the last insult you throw at me.”

She groaned. “Must everyone throw that in my face? And why, are you about to do something to incur my wrath?”

He smiled. “No, but I’m sure I will at some point. Several points. It seems to be the nature of our relationship that we be at odds from time to time. Does that…upset you?”

She thought for a moment.

“I…don’t think so? I mean people argue, it doesn’t damage the relationship as long as that’s not all we do, and as long as we don’t say anything truly hurtful.”

“Or… _do_ anything…hurtful,” he mumbled, looking down. “I think you automatically win the next twenty arguments after what I’ve done.”

She laughed. “Even your hyperbole is calm and measured, Mr. Director,” she quipped.

“I wasn’t exaggerating.”

Her breath caught. She’d wondered just after that horrific scene in the theater if she would ever get over what he’d done. Now, his apologies, his explanations had gone a long way towards assuaging the pain he’d caused her. But there was still more work to be done.

She let go of him to pull off her shirt.

A sharp intake of breath, then he gingerly slid his hands back up to her waist from where they’d been loosely linked around her.

“Let’s replace that memory with something better, Jumin.” She knew it didn’t really work that way – she would never forget, nor would he. But perhaps actually making love with him, rather than the mess of a physical relationship they’d shared so far, would help.

“I…”

She heard the doubt in his voice. “You…don’t want to?” She waited anxiously for his answer.

“Your dance is the most beautiful memory I have,” he said, and her eyes widened. “I think about it…often. So I apologize if this seems silly, but I don’t want to forget that night. It reminds me of how precious you are to me, and how _not_ to treat you…”

“Jumin…” she whispered, and leaned down to capture his lips in a lingering kiss.

His hand slowly traveled up her back.

She felt every movement he made – hyper aware of every place that he touched her, and even where his touch was missing.

She was reaching down to pull at his shirt when he unfastened her bra clasp, the lace sliding forward down her arms as he leaned back to tug his own shirt over his head.

His hand covered her breast, and she closed her eyes on a sigh.

“Could you open your eyes for me?” he asked, voice low and melodic, and she immediately did so.

“Did you know…” he murmured as he slid her shorts off, “that your eyes become…the loveliest shade of gold…when you’re aroused?”

She gasped; she’d thought any description of her eyes beyond ‘hazel’ was merely being overly poetic or falsely complimentary.

But to hear him say such a thing…

Her gaze still locked with his, she put one knee on the bed beside him. Then the other, on the other side, but kept herself from sitting down on him. Not yet.

“Does that mean…they’re always like that around you?” She leaned down to his ear. “Because I _always_ want you, Jumin.”

He made a little noise in his throat, and she smiled as she pressed the softness of her breasts against the hard planes of his chest.

Her smile quickly faded when he stood up, with her legs still around him. He turned them around, and before he could lay them on the bed she took the opportunity to yank his underwear down with one hand; as knelt on the bed the designer boxers fell to the floor. She bit her lip – she’d never seen all of him, naked, at once. He’d always been half dressed during their encounters. It seemed so much more intimate, now, both of them on even footing, both of them knowing exactly what they wanted from the other.

Both of them determined to be good to each other – no confusion, no misunderstandings.

Both of them, in love.

She was surprised when he didn’t enter her immediately, but as he moved over her instead his hand slipped between her legs.

She spread them for him, a little gasp falling from her lips when he touched her.

“My Zhara…there could be no work of art more lovely than you…” She’d been in love with him enough when he was rude to her, but now that he was making her feel beautiful, cherished…

“But it has come to my attention,” he said, his voice deep and husky, “that I have not pleased you as you have me…on several occasions.”

“That’s okay, Jumin, it’s not as easy for me to—ah!” He’d slid two fingers inside her, and she bit her lip.

“It does not matter. If it’s not as easy, I should try harder, instead of… _god_ Zhara—”

She’d grabbed his wrist, pushing his fingers in deeper, and she saw his length twitch in response.

She didn’t know that well, herself, but she knew more than he did. “Do you want me to…show you?” she asked breathlessly.

“Yes, _yes,”_ he murmured intently. “Please—”

She took his thumb and positioned it over her heat. “Be gentle,” she whispered, and slowly guided his thumb over her slick clit, a few times, then she released his hand.

He wasn’t perfect at it, but the sight of his long fingers stroking her was arousing enough that he didn’t really have to be. His rapt face, watching her body movements; her chest rising and falling rapidly, back arching, mouth open…

“Jumin,” she whimpered, eyes closed, reaching out for his free hand. She linked her fingers with his, and the increasing intensity of her noises let him know she would soon climax.

“Please, my Zhara, let me see what your eyes look like now—”

They flew open, locked with his for two seconds –

And then she came, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open then, the pleasure was too much.

His own groan as she tightened around his fingers was almost as visceral as hers. Her relief was so great at finally having an orgasm for him – all those times he’d been inside her and now she came for him, ecstasy flowing from her lips in a soft, sustained cry.

“My god, I…” he whispered raggedly. She had to reach down and grab his hand so he wouldn’t touch her again, her heat too sensitive now, and she pulled him towards her.

Then he slipped inside her, slowly this time, carefully. His arms slid under her back, and she embraced him in turn as he pushed deeper, deeper.

She smiled as he did, running her hands up his back. This impossibly beautiful man, whose dedication to her happiness was all the more precious because of what they’d been through to get here.

Her smile turned to a gasp as he buried himself fully inside her, her body held close against his, his lips on her face, her hair.

He pushed into her over and over, one hand tangling in her hair, pulling gently. His passion still burned deep, and hot, but this time was unmarred by feelings of frustration, anger, or guilt.

When he came, he unconsciously pulled harder on her hair, and she arched her back a little, a deep throb echoing through her even as his length pulsed inside her. She was so close to another orgasm in that moment, his deep voice sounding a moan in her ear, that she nearly reached down to touch herself, eager for yet another release.

But she resisted; she didn’t know how he would feel about her doing that, and though she hurried past the thought, she also didn’t want to dwell on what Jihyun had taught her the other night.

For now, it was enough to have Jumin’s weight on her, and inside her, his labored breath tickling her lips as his forehead rested against hers, both damp with sweat.

He kissed her slowly.

“How did I survive without this?” he asked, almost to himself. He withdrew carefully, and collapsed beside her, their bodies not quite touching as they cooled off. He grabbed her hand, linking his fingers with hers.

She stared at the ceiling. Did he mean…the sex?

“Hmm. It seems the experience has dulled the edge of my eloquence.” He squeezed her fingers. “I was referring to the feelings you inspire in me, not the…satisfaction of my physical desires.”

She smiled, and turned to him, rolling over on her side and releasing his hand to scoot a little closer to him.

“What feelings do I inspire, Jumin?”

This time, he only needed one word, and it was eloquent enough.

“Happiness.”

Tears immediately filled her eyes. She was so glad that she could make him feel that way – and so guilty that she couldn’t say the same.

Not because he didn’t make her happy; he did.

But every thrill of happiness was accompanied by a stab of guilt.

She could never be happy with him, not fully, while this secret hung between them.

She had to figure out a way out of this. She’d thought she’d save herself hurt by delaying her decision, but it was only ruining what should be indescribably beautiful moments between her and Jumin.

But so far she hadn’t let him guess what was taking place behind her smile, and she wouldn’t – not after what had passed between them.

She snuggled into the curve of his arm, kissed his shoulder.

“Good. You deserve to be happy, Jumin.”

He smiled, almost grinned, and despite her inner turmoil her own lips curved in response to the joy inherent in his expression. He pulled her closer to him, kissed her forehead. They wriggled around a bit to get underneath the covers, and once there, quickly fell asleep.

***  
  
Zhara woke in the night to find Jumin’s head on her chest, his arms tucked around her, his tousled hair tickling her collarbone. Her heart lurched; she’d been dreaming about him, and then she woke, and there he was.

Nothing sordid occurred in her dream – something vague about the two of them driving somewhere – but it felt like a fantasy world that miraculously still existed when she opened her eyes.

Even more so when he held her so sweetly. She stroked his hair gently, not wanting to wake him.

She might be hurting herself by delaying her decision. But now that she’d come to know more and more of Jumin – the warm, soft core he kept hidden from the world, beneath a surface of cold steel – there was one thing she was sure of.

She couldn’t let him go.

He’d revealed so much to her; things she was sure no one else had ever seen. And the way he treated her, not as a porcelain doll, nor as his toy, but as a precious being deserving of love…it had cut her deep, and she didn’t think she would ever recover.

Didn’t want to.

The hand stroking his hair paused when he moved, one arm shifting beneath her, one leg sliding over hers. Then he heaved a vocal sigh of such obvious contentment that her chest tightened yet again.

No, recovering from this devastating love was something she had no interest in.

She would figure out the rest later.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning she managed to wriggle free of his embrace before he awoke, and took a quick shower. She’d only brought the most basic of her bath things, since she only intended on staying a short while, but as she got out and towel dried her hair, she cursed her lack of forethought. She’d left her conditioner, her straightening balm, and her straightening iron at home; now she’d have to wear her hair in a bun or a braid the entire time she was here or it would be a monstrous mess.

Nothing she could do about it, though.

As she was getting dressed, Jumin knocked.

“May I come in?”

“Wait your turn, Mr. Director,” she chirped. “I’m not dressed yet.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I should intervene before you become so.”

He opened the door, and she huffed in remonstrance, but she was already half clothed so it didn’t really matter.

He shook his head as she pulled a dress over her head. “A reprehensible state of affairs—” He stopped when he looked at what she was wearing. It was just a white knit skater dress, with blue abstract flowers; perhaps a little short, but not obscenely so. She blushed; she’d agonized over whether or not to accede to his request of wearing dresses while she was here – part of her had wanted to defy him just to assert her independence.

And part of her had been well aware of how handy a dress could be.

“I take it back. I fully approve.” His eyes were intent, and her flush deepened.

She forced herself to scoff. “It’s not just for you, Jumin, I wear dresses a lot anyway.”

“Mhmm. Regardless, that is…very nice.”

She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

She dodged out of the bathroom before she could immediately put the dress to the use she had definitely, certainly not intended.

She checked her phone as she tried to brush her hair into some semblance of order. 9 a.m. – she wondered if Jumin normally slept this late on weekends…

Hearing him getting into the shower, she decided she’d better check on Elizabeth.

As soon as she opened the door, a ball of white fluff shot past her, launching onto the bed.

Zhara barely had time to note – with extreme embarrassment – that Elizabeth was smelling the covers, when she heard a noise coming from the living room.

She stepped out of the bedroom—

And heard voices.

Female voices.

She ducked back into the bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as possible.

She turned to see Elizabeth regarding here with great interest.

“You could have told me there were people here!” she scolded quietly. What should she do? She was safe, for now, but she ought to let Jumin know he had visitors…

Who the hell came into someone’s house without being invited?? Perhaps Mr. Chairman was here… _god above_ she hoped not.

She hurried to the bathroom, hearing the water shut off just as she reached it. As much as she relished the idea of catching Jumin getting out of the shower naked, she’d have to stuff down her admiration – they had more important things to deal with.

She slipped into the room and pulled the door silently shut behind her. As she’d expected, she got a very choice view of Jumin’s rather breathtaking ass, but though her eyes widened, she managed to drag her gaze upwards.

“Jumin!”

He actually grabbed the towel – as if she hadn’t seen all of him last night. Pursing her lips to avoid smiling at his adorable reaction, she took a few steps forward so she could more effectively whisper.

“Someone’s here! I assume you weren’t expecting anyone?”

His brow immediately lowered. “Of course not. God, I hope father hasn’t come over unannounced…the only other person who has a key is Jihyun…”

Her stomach clenched, but she resolutely ignored it. “No, it’s…Jumin there’s a _woman_.”

He paled.

A knock sounded on the bedroom door.

“Jumin, are you abed at this hour? Aren’t you normally up and about by this time?”

It was definitely Chairman Han.

Zhara clapped her hands over her mouth, while Jumin merely closed his eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. “He’s brought his newest floosy into my house. Unbelievable.”

Zhara nearly choked as she strove to prevent herself from making some self-deprecatory comment about women of questionable morals.

Jumin left the bathroom in his towel and called to his father. “I’ll be out in a minute – shouldn’t you have called first?” He hurriedly got dressed. Zhara busied herself grabbing her few belongings from the dresser and hiding them in the bathroom – confident, at least, that no one would venture in here and she could successfully hide.

“We did call, but you didn’t answer!”

“Perhaps that was a sign you should have postponed your visit?” Zhara nearly giggled at his barely-restrained annoyance.

“We were on this side of town and we’re quite busy today, Jumin are you coming out of there? I have someone I want you to meet.”

Jumin stopped in the midst of tucking in his shirt, and narrowed his eyes. He glanced at Zhara, and she caught the barest glimpse of a curve to his lips as he yanked his shirt off and stepped into his closet for another.

“Very well, just a moment, you umm…caught me as I was coming back from the gym.”

“Oh, I see, I see,” Chairman Han said rather overly fondly. Then his voice grew muffled, but Zhara could still hear him, from her post in the bathroom door. “He’s very fit, Jumin is.”

Followed by a female titter.

Zhara couldn’t keep her lip from curling in a sneer.

When Jumin came back out of the closet, she was shocked to see he was wearing her favorite sweater.

And beneath it, an _untucked_ shirt. Oh…oh dear.

Zhara bit her lip; Jumin thought he was being defiant towards his father’s intrusion in his house, by wearing something so casual, and his father probably would be a little miffed by it.

But if there were women out there, this outfit would likely have the opposite effect.

Well, there was nothing to do about it now.

But instead of heading to the door, Jumin walked over to her first.

He took her hands, and leaned down to her ear. “You know, I could just…introduce you.”

She struggled to keep her gasp of dismay silent, and settled for shaking her head vehemently. The last thing she wanted was to exit Jumin’s bedroom on a Sunday morning and meet his father and his father’s new girlfriend.

She nearly grew weak in the knees at this horrifying thought.

Jumin smiled slightly. “Understandable. I’ll try to get rid of them as quickly as possible.” He kissed her cheek, and she ducked into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, and she picked up her phone and hopped onto the counter, ready to pass the time until he’d accomplished his mission.

***

Zhara sat literally kicking her heels in the bathroom for about ten minutes before her curiosity got the better of her, and she crept out into the bedroom. She didn’t want to eavesdrop, precisely – she wrinkled her nose thinking of the conversations Chairman Han might have with Jumin, it was nothing she was interested in, certainly.

In part, she wanted to confirm there were no raised voices.

But it had also occurred to her – she couldn’t stay locked in the bathroom all day. What if Jumin couldn’t get rid of them? She might be forced to make an appearance. And the best way to do that was to make it seem as if she was just here casually, perhaps meeting Jumin about the RFA, or…his plans for her theater.

Best not to refer to it as _her_ theater in front of the others…

She still hoped to avoid any contact with them, but it was better to be prepared. She pulled her shoes – the same wedge sandals she’d worn on her first date with Jumin – from her bag, and sat down on the bed to put them on.

Elizabeth, who Zhara hadn’t realized had stayed in the bedroom, sidled over to her, and climbed into her lap.

“Hmm, maybe I could stay in here quite a while, if you’re keeping me company,” she whispered to the cat.

“Mrrrp?”

“I have no idea, nor do I want to – I may have gotten past Jumin’s “trust fund kid” exterior but his father is a whole different story, not to mention that woman.”

Elizabeth chirped again, clearly agreeing with her.

That’s when a woman’s voice sounded clearly, just outside the door.

“Is she in here? Oh I do so want to meet her!”

Zhara stood, Elizabeth in her arms, both of them wearing the same “deer in the headlights” expression.

The door practically burst open…and a young woman stood there, cherry red hair hanging in sleek, straight strands around her almost-too-perfect face, much smaller and thinner than Zhara, but with…questionably large assets.

The woman gasped.

Jumin, right behind her, pinched the bridge of his nose.

Elizabeth, having ascertained that she absolutely did not want anything to do with the intruder, promptly launched herself out of Zhara’s arms, and past the crowd at the door.

Her claws left a trio of red lines on Zhara’s arm that quickly began to bleed.

“Who the _hell_ is this _?”_ the newcomer hissed, and Zhara was glad she’d taken a few seconds to come up with a plausible story.

“Miss Kai, allow me to—" Jumin began.

Zhara smiled brightly and cut him off. “I would shake your hand, but it seems you’ve frightened Elizabeth 3rd into injuring me,” she replied with a little laugh. “I’m Zhara Kyoh, I’m a member of the RFA with Jumin, I just came over this morning to—”

“You’re in his bedroom, I think we can guess what you came here for.”

“Might I point out that you, too, are in his bedroom?” Zhara’s barely kept her smile in place when she thought of how wrong – and how right – the woman was. “I merely followed Elizabeth into this room by mistake.” Zhara didn’t look at Jumin as he hurried past her, a pained look on his face, into his bathroom to grab a towel for her arm.

The other woman looked her up and down.

“Zhara. Oh. That _dancer_ ,” she sneered.

Zhara laughed with feigned delight. Miss Kai must have recognized her from the bit of news coverage from the RFA party. “How kind of you to remember who I am, and pay me a compliment all at once. Yes, I am in fact a dancer. And what, exactly, do _you_ do, Miss Kai?”

The woman blinked. “I’m a businesswoman,” she said finally, and Zhara had to choke back a snort. What business was she in, being a half-ass model for plastic surgery?

Jumin came back out with a damp cloth, which she took from him with a brief glance, careful not to meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

“It seems his cat doesn’t care much for you,” Miss Kai mused snidely.

“On the contrary, she was fine until you entered – I wonder why that is?”

“Perhaps she could sense a rival for Jumin’s affections.” The woman literally tossed her hair, her face smug.

She was bold, Zhara had to give her that. She acted as if she already had a claim on Jumin…boy would she be horrified if she knew what claim Zhara already had…

“In any case, I came over to discuss the business plan for a theater that we both have an interest in,” Zhara stated, completely ignoring Miss Kai’s comment. “But if he had a previous appointment with you I apologize, I will reschedule.”

“There is no need for that, Miss Kyoh,” Jumin finally chimed in. “Miss Kai was just leaving.”

Zhara managed to refrain from looking smug, herself, as Jumin escorted her out.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Kai!” she chirped at her adversary’s retreating back.

Fortuitously – or perhaps purposefully – Elizabeth entered the room again just after they left, looking rather contrite.

“Oh hello, Elizabeth!” Zhara cooed loudly. “You’re back! No, don’t worry, I’m not angry…” She snickered under her breath.

She wasn’t about to have a ‘cat’ fight over Jumin, but she also wasn’t going to let some money-grubbing git insult her. Her lips quirked; she felt fairly confident she had won that round, and her wits had barely been called upon.

Miss Kai had better not try to engage her again.

A few minutes later Jumin returned, and he looked such a potent combination of guilty and annoyed that Zhara laughed outright.

“You should see your face, Jumin!” she gasped.

He didn’t seem amused. “Are you alright? I’m surprised you’re cuddling up with Elizabeth again after she injured you.”

Zhara looked down at the ball of fluff in her lap. “Oh, it wasn’t her fault. Anyone could be excused for enacting a little violence after seeing that woman.”

Jumin knelt next to her, running a hand over Elizabeth’s fur absently. “My father and his fiancé,” he said the word with barely disguised disdain, “brought Miss Kai over, and then – if you can imagine – left, trying to leave her here alone with me.”

“My god, I thought your father had a greater sense of etiquette!”

“As did I. I am sorry you had to be subjected to her harassment.”

Zhara shrugged. “I would hardly classify it as such.”

He looked up and met her eyes for the first time since the ‘guests’ had arrived. “I must admit, it was almost…pitiful, watching her.”

“What, because she clearly had designs on you, and you don’t care about women?”

He smiled slightly. “Well, only one.” She blushed and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “But more so…because it was like watching a candle try to compete with a forest fire.”

Zhara blinked. “I’m inclined to take that as a very intense compliment but I’m not sure how much I care for being likened to a natural disaster,” she giggled.

“Well, a bonfire is too small,” Jumin said seriously. “But I suppose you’re only a disaster in terms of my emotionless reputation.”

Her smile softened. “Is it really that bad? Feeling things?”

“Hmm, not bad at all,” he answered, following his words with an embrace that made Elizabeth squeak and jump down lest she be squashed. “I’d like to feel some more things, if you think you can arrange it…”

***

Zhara stayed at Jumin’s for a few more days. Jaehee guessed – from a slip-up on Zhara’s part – where she was, but didn’t put up a fuss; Jumin was actually more productive at work than he had been for weeks.

Zhara secretly felt very flattered by this, but successfully kept her own council in the chat.

He hated leaving her every morning, but she was glad he wasn’t creating a scene by shirking his abilities. And she had her own translation work to catch up on, and also snuck out to the gym – a semi-private one for the residents of the top floors – once a day. Otherwise she sat on the patio as she worked, far above the noise of the city, basking in the sunshine and the cool breeze of an impending autumn.

Mr. Chairman had been dropping hints to Jumin about the girl, Miss Kai, but Jumin merely ignored them all, or deliberately misunderstood his father’s innuendos and suggestions. Zhara hoped to god this would work until Mr. Chairman gave up on whatever harebrained scheme he’d thought up.

In the evenings when Jumin came back, she tried to have some little surprise for him; not because he expected it, but specifically because he didn’t. The first day she’d tried to make cupcakes – she wasn’t terrible in the kitchen, but Jumin’s fancy ingredients in his fancy pantry were not things she was used to, and it didn’t exactly go as planned.

The smoke alarm went off the second he opened the door; when he turned and saw her standing in the kitchen, her face a mask of chagrin, he’d burst out laughing. His security guard came running – Zhara could never be sure whether it was due to the alarm or Jumin’s laughter – and was so stunned he could barely string two words together. Jumin waved him away as he approached the culprit in the kitchen, and the man backed out of the apartment with eyes the size of dinner plates.

She made him laugh several times – not just chuckle, but outright laugh, and she counted herself very proud. She’d never heard him really laugh the whole time she’d known him, but he seemed so much lighter now, as if he’d put down something heavy and now he could move freely.

But just a few days into her visit, Jumin’s smiles ceased.

Mr. Han had invited him to dinner after work; Jumin tried to refuse, but Mr. Chairman asked him point blank if he was avoiding him, so he decided to just get it over with. Zhara was getting a little bored at Jumin’s place, and didn’t exactly relish hanging out for another few hours by herself after having spent several days alone already.  But she didn’t want to interfere in Jumin’s relationship with his father, and even felt a little awkward that he thought he had to ask for her blessing.

Zhara did some halfhearted dance practice on the patio in the late afternoon, then went into the kitchen to attempt yet another dessert. She’d ordered – with her own money, of course – a special type of cherry wine that was supposed to pair well with a certain dessert dish, and she felt confident this time she could take better care and complete her mission without mishap.

She didn’t hear from Jumin almost at all the whole evening, just once to let her know he was on the way home. He didn’t ask about her day – as he’d gotten in the habit of doing as soon as he got off work – but she assumed the dinner might have been a little awkward. She thought of a scenario in which her mother invited her to dinner to discuss her dating life, and wrinkled her nose. Definitely awkward.

But Jumin was more than grumpy when he returned.

She had wine poured for both of them, the little tarts she’d made on a platter on the counter.

She stepped forward to kiss him…

But he walked right past her, and to the cabinet where his liquor was kept.

He poured a glass of whiskey, and Zhara’s eyes widened. She hadn’t seen him drink whiskey since she’d been here…had his dinner gone that badly? His hair was mussed, as if he’d been running his hands through it on the way home…

“…Jumin? Is everything alright?”

He sighed, and finally looked at her. Glanced over at the desserts, the glasses of wine he’d passed by.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, but didn’t approach. She felt a little hurt, but perhaps she shouldn’t have bothered, and would have been smarter to expect the evening to end with Jumin very stressed out…

“It’s fine, but what’s going on?”

“There’s…some trouble. With my father.”

“I assumed.”

“Come over here,” he directed, motioning towards the couch. “And you might want to bring the wine.”

Zhara felt her stomach rolling over. Looking at the wine she’d poured, she decided she’d be better off without drinking something so sweet, if Jumin was about to give her troubling news.

She sat on the edge of the couch, her bare feet sinking into the thick white rug, hugging herself as if against a chill even though she was wearing a sweater dress.

Jumin refilled his glass and came to sit next to her – but not as close as usual. And why did he get a glass of whiskey and she was supposed to drink pink wine? She felt a frisson of annoyance that he apparently though whiskey was a ‘man’s drink’ and didn’t intend to offer her any. But she suppressed it; now wasn’t the time to get nitpicky with him.

“He threatened to disown me,” Jumin said abruptly, and took a generous swallow of his drink.

Zhara gasped. “He…no, Jumin, I can’t—”

“Well he did. He wants me to marry that little strumpet Miss Kai.”

Zhara’s chest contracted painfully, causing her to suck in another breath. “I…”

“I informed him he was being ridiculous. And then he told me that I was damaging the reputation of C&R, and showed me photos – supposedly from a news agency.”

Zhara’s voice shook. “What do you mean, photos?”

“Of us.”

“What, on one of our dates, or…?”

“No.”

“Will you please just tell me! I don’t understand what’s going on!” She lost her composure and nearly yelled at him.

He winced, but drank the rest of his drink before answering. “On the balcony,” he ground out.

Zhara went white. She knew immediately what he meant; a few nights ago they’d gotten a little carried away while outside on the patio. She’d been in a dress, and he, behind her, pushing her into the railing, took full advantage of it – as she’d meant him to, although not necessarily outside…

Oh god. Oh _god_. Now she was sure she would be sick. “Jumin, how—we’re on the 63rd floor! How could they get pictures of it, it must have been—”

“They’re blurry, but they’re real. Don’t worry, you can’t see much…but it’s rather obvious what’s going on. I believe a helicopter was used.”

“A—my god! Who in the hell hires a helicopter to—then again I suppose if the catch is Chairman Han and his son you’d do pretty much anything, wouldn’t you?” She said the last part almost to herself, bitterly.

“I’d wondered if they might be hired…”

“Jumin,” she scolded, exasperated. “Of course they did. Number one, for what purpose would a random news agency toodle around the skies of the city and just happen to take a picture of Jumin Han’s private balcony? Number two, if it was a news agency the pictures would already be circulating.”

She stood up and went to the liquor cabinet herself, not even asking him.

“You’re being blackmailed. And since I assume your father isn’t in on it, so is he.”

Jumin stared at his empty glass. Zhara poured him another, then sipped at her own.

“Your conclusion seems reasonable,” he mused.

She rolled her eyes. Of course it was.

“But the fact remains that my father is taken in by this woman and her…protégé, whoever she is. And his ultimatum still stands – either I do what he tells me, or he cuts me out of the company.”

“Don’t you have a large share in the company yourself? How can he just cut you out, it’s not as if he owns it outright—”

“He told me – clearly coached by his future _wife_ – that once the board found out about my ‘indiscretions’, they would easily vote to divest me of my position.”

Zhara leaned heavily against the wall, a dead weight in the pit of her stomach.

They were silent for a few minutes, until finally Zhara voiced what she assumed they had both already realized.

“I have to go home. I can’t give them any more fodder.”

He stared at her. “No.”

“Jumin, it will just make things worse – I’m already stuck here, and now I’ll have to keep all the curtains closed, I can’t go outside, I’d have to watch out even when going to the gym—”

Suddenly he was in front of her, his hand on the wall beside her head. “You’re not going anywhere, Zhara – if I ever needed you, it’s now—” his other arm went to her waist, and her eyes widened in shock as he slowly pulled up on the hem of her dress. “How am I supposed to…think…if I can’t…”

She was rarely able to resist him, but right now she was so ill at ease, so aware of eyes that might be on them, that it wasn’t even a problem.

“Jumin, stop. They could be watching us, even now—”

He growled, walked over to the wall of windows, and slapped the button that drew the curtains across it.

She set her drink down, started to head to the bedroom to gather her things.

He caught her wrist. “Zhara. Don’t do this to me.”

“Jumin, I’m trying to think of your reputation here! Your business could suffer, your relationship with your father, everything!”

He pulled her closer, holding her arm in a painful grip. “He just wants me to marry her so we can acquire her business. I could just do it on paper…and you could stay…”

She gasped, and with her free hand she drew back and slapped him, the sound ringing out through his cavernous living room, seeming to echo against the walls.

In his shock he let her go, and she hurried to the bedroom, throwing her few clothes and toiletries into her bag in a rush.

Tears pooled in her eyes – she’d thought them past this. She’d been so sure things were so good between them; that they’d never again fall back on this sort of behavior.

But this time, at least, she wasn’t to blame. She had been before, and she knew it. But for Jumin to suggest that she stay at his apartment, like a kept woman…while he married someone else. What must he think of her that he assumed she’d consider such a thing?

Utterly insulting. And it _hurt_.

When she walked back into the living room, he stood near the front door, on his phone. She stuffed her laptop into her bag as well; spared a melancholy glance for the dessert she’d made with such high hopes.

When Jumin turned his eyes toward her, that smoky grey she’d come to love had solidified into the cold steel she’d seen when she first met him. Emotionless Jumin was back.

She sighed, refusing to cry; he didn’t deserve to see how he’d hurt her, not after how he’d behaved.

They waited silently for the chief of security to arrive to escort her back downstairs.

“Zhara…”

“Jumin…I get it,” she said flatly. “You have to be businesslike in order to handle this, I understand.” She turned away, staring resolutely at the front door. “I just…I guess I wish I’d had a little time to prepare.”

“For leaving?” His tone was barely one of mild curiosity.

“No. For you to turn back into the Ice Prince,” she whispered sadly.

They didn’t kiss goodbye; she was too angry, and he was frozen, now, his façade like the smooth broad edge of a knife. She found herself wondering if his ardor could be destroyed so easily – present him with a problem involving his work, his money, and he instantly reverted back to the heartless professional she’d so often argued with when they’d first met.

She didn’t cry until she got into the back of the car, and Driver Kim took off down the road.

***

Back in her apartment, she fussed over her little plant, hoping the few days without water hadn’t damaged it, but it seemed okay. She hummed a song in her head over and over, refusing to think.

She logged into the chat room, unwilling to say anything personal, but wanting to let the others know that Jumin was having issues.

For a moment she missed Seven’s bright, ridiculous jokes; she could use his silliness right now, to distract her from the pain that had lodged itself in her chest.

But he and Saeran were off rediscovering brotherhood or something, and she took a moment to send a little blessing their way. After all that had happened to both of them, they certainly deserved some happiness. She hoped they’d find it.

Jaehee and Zen were online.

_“You guys…I can’t give details, it’s not my place to, but Jumin…”_

_“What did he do now?”_ Zen was already using bold font. _“Did he mess with you somehow? Are you okay?”_

_“I’m fine, Zen, calm down.”_

_“I’m glad to hear you are okay, Zhara, but what’s happened?”_ Jaehee asked calmly. Zhara smiled thinking how perfect those two were for each other…if they’d only truly admit it and stop dancing around.

_“Something happened with Jumin and his father, and he’s very upset. So please just keep that in mind if you speak to him.”_

_“What, did his rich dad yank the silver spoon out of his mouth or something?”_

Zhara sighed. _“Seriously, Zen, stop.”_

_“Zen, I think this is not the time to be joking.”_

_“Sorry, fine. But the Trust Fund Kid’s seemed so laid back lately, what could have happened to upset him?”_

Zhara squeezed her eyes shut. _“Like I said, I’ll let Jumin reveal details if he wants to. I imagine Jaehee will hear about it one way or another, but I’d rather not give out his personal business.”_

 _“Zhara…are you still…”_ She knew what Jaehee was asking, and she definitely didn’t want Zen catching wind of where she’d been, or she’d be subject to an entire page of huge text and angry emojis.

_“No.”_

_“I see.”_

_“Uhh I don’t see, lol,”_ Zen interjected.

_“Jaehee, just…good luck tomorrow, there might be some…difficulties at the office.”_

_“Thank you for warning me.”_

_“Why would there be—you know what, never mind, I don’t even care. As long as you’re okay Zhara I don’t care what happens with him.”_

_“That’s not very nice to say, Zen, I thought you two had loosened up towards each other recently?”_ Bless Jaehee for being so gently remonstrative when Zen got out of hand…

Zen posted several emojis in a row. _“Alright, alright, I hope he’s okay too, are you ladies happy? Ugh.”_

 _“I’m sure he’s fine.”_ Zhara hesitated before typing the rest. _“I bet he’ll be back to his normal self soon.”_

She signed out after Jaehee promised to let her know what the situation was the next day at C&R.

Then she called Jihyun.

***

“I’m very surprised that he reverted to his worst behavior over this, even if he is very anxious about it…after how much he’s changed recently.”

She’d known she could count on Jihyun to listen to her, console her, even though she knew, still, that it was unfair to him to lay such problems out before him.

“And not only that, but Jihyun…I swear I saw a couple suspicious people loitering in the lobby of my building.”

“Are you serious?”

“I can’t be sure they were looking for me – I mean…okay, I need to calm down. I’m sure they weren’t, I’m just being paranoid. I doubt anyone knows where I live; they certainly don’t know the apartment number, even if they somehow followed me to this building…”

“Zhara, I’m concerned—”

“I’m sorry, Jihyun, please don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’m just being a baby.”

“You should come stay with me.”

Zhara nearly dropped the phone. “I…what?”

“I haven’t seen you in over a week. Surely it would be acceptable for a woman to go visit a umm…fellow RFA member and friend?” he asked with a smile in his voice. “This place is pretty secluded, there’s no way anyone could follow you.”

“Jihyun…I…”

“I’m sorry. It probably seems like I’m trying to get you to come here for my own hidden agenda or something, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable—”

“God no, of course you didn’t! I mean, I would love to, but I…”

Why couldn’t she?

Because now she felt like a…a stain. A blemish that couldn’t be allowed to darken someone else’s life. Especially not Jihyun’s.

“I…I don’t think it’s a good idea, then they’ll just…associate me with you instead.”

“I see. You do know your voice almost literally tells me everything you’re trying not to?”

She half laughed through the tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, hush.”

“Please? Come over?”

She sighed heavily. Was silent for a few moments.

“Fine. But I’ll come in the morning – it’s too late now.”

“Understandable. Let me know when you leave. I’ll text you the address.”


	9. Chapter 9

Zhara had never been to Jihyun’s house – even when they’d spent quite a bit of time together after the incident with Rika, it was always somewhere else. ‘Her theater’, sometimes the apartment, sometimes the park. She got the feeling back then that he didn’t want to be home. To be constantly reminded of another time, in which he’d been happy periodically but also endured consistent emotional turbulence and abuse.

She didn’t even know he’d sold it, until he gave her his address. She vaguely remembered the previous street name from the work she’d been doing for the party, and this didn’t match up.

“I’m in a different place now,” he explained when she called him to let him know she was on the way. He was a little hesitant, she thought. “Sorry you didn’t get to see the other house, it was a lot fancier.” There was a little laugh in his voice but it seemed a nervous one.

“I don’t care where you live, Jihyun. I’d come visit you in a cardboard box if I had to.”

“Well, it’s not quite that bad.”

“Bonus.”

He chuckled. “I’ll see you soon. Oh, and Zhara?” He paused for a moment. “If you want, you can bring your…dance things. There’s a really big studio and then a clearing in the back that’s quite level. I know you said you like to dance outside...”

She swallowed. Already his soft voice was assaulting her heart, and he wasn’t even being particularly attentive or romantic.

Just terribly considerate. As he was.

“Thank you. I will.”

She hung up, and stared at her phone for a minute before she returned to her closet and got out a couple sets of practice outfits and her shoes.

She’d been back to the theater – blessedly scoured and tidied, by someone on Jumin’s payroll, she assumed – but only once, and she desperately needed an outlet for all her emotions. She’d tried doing a little practice in the apartment, but even though she pushed everything to the side she ended up knocking things over, and quickly gave up.

She relished the opportunity to dance outside, in the peace and quiet of nature; she’d done that often while at school, since it was located in a somewhat rural locale, but since she’d moved back into the city she’d had no such opportunity.

She finished up her packing and took one more look at her outfit – for the thousandth time. Boots, tights, and a long ¾ sleeve sweater that was pretty casual…too casual? No, it would be weird to dress fancy to go to Jihyun’s house. She rolled her eyes at herself and headed out the door, her stomach in knots – she never used to be this nervous, about anything.

She didn’t know how she should act to Jihyun, after what happened with Jumin. Before yesterday, she’d felt sure she’d have to tell Jumin before she even saw Jihyun again. Jumin thought they were committed, he’d said he loved her; she couldn’t just sneak over to Jihyun’s and have a romantic relationship with him behind Jumin’s back.

But now…she didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know if she and Jumin were through, or…

But after what he said, and how angry he was, and then how _cold_ …how could she assume that their status was still the same?

She sighed as she stepped into the elevator. Would she ever figure this out?

She had the taxi meet her in the garage, since she was specifically trying to avoid being spotted. Not that she knew anyone was outside, watching her. But she couldn’t be sure, and she didn’t want to take any chances.

She must have turned around in the back seat of the cab twenty times, scanning the traffic behind, her heart fluttering when she thought she saw someone change lanes to keep up with them.

She knew that part of her unrest with the situation with Jumin arose from how guilty she felt at being the cause of it in the first place.

Of course, she’d had no intent of making things difficult for him. And he’d invited her over – practically insisted. So logically she knew she wasn’t at fault.

But emotionally…none of this would ever have happened if she’d just let Jumin apologize to her, accepted it like a normal human being, and then _moved on._ Gone to Jihyun’s house _then_ , maybe. Or just stayed alone, where she belonged.

She felt simultaneously dirty - violated that someone had been watching them - and ashamed that there’d been something to watch. Her confidence in front of Miss Kai had been strong at the time because of her burgeoning relationship with Jumin, but now…now that the rose colored glasses were gone, she could see herself more clearly.

She might not have let him buy her any clothes, or pay her bills, but if Miss Kai wanted to call her a strumpet, was she wrong? Was Chairman Han wrong for telling Jumin his reputation was at risk, because of this nobody he was seeing?

Her heart ached when she recalled Jumin’s face. He hadn’t even considered how she might feel about it. She thought back to his concern for her reputation, on their first date, when they’d kissed on the bridge.

A sweet, passionate moment that she’d cut short because she didn’t want his name to be damaged. He’d assured her he had every care for her ‘honor’…and reiterated that when she’d gone with him to the book shop.

But where was that care now? She understood that his father was important to him – she might not have a close relationship with her mother (nor the father she didn’t even know), but she admired Jumin’s strong family ties.

But family ties didn’t mean he should forsake her entirely. Forget any harm that might come to _her_ as a result of this fiasco.

And then suggest…that he might…

That he might have a wife, and just fuck Zhara on the side.

Zhara squeezed her eyes shut, brows drawn together as she fought to keep tears, of anger and of betrayal, at bay.

She should be happy – since Jumin had been such an ass, it made it easier for her to concentrate on Jihyun. Someone who was actually deserving of love, who would never hurt her or betray her.

The driver took her into the mountains; they arrived in about 40 minutes. It wasn’t extremely far out of the city, but was about 2 miles outside of a little town, down a lane lined with trees.

The driver pulled up to a large wooden gate, looked at his phone, then at the number on the stone gate post.

She hadn’t expected Jihyun’s house to be so secluded, despite what he’d said…

She had the driver let her out there; before she could call Jihyun to open the gate, he was there, and she paid the driver, who quickly turned around in the road and drove back the way they’d come.

She left her bags on the ground for a minute in favor of flinging her arms around Jihyun’s neck.

He returned her embrace emphatically, holding her tight, her feet coming off the ground a little.

“Are you okay?” he mumbled into her hair.

She nodded as best she could. “I’m fine. I…I missed you.”

He let her go almost abruptly, leaning back, grabbing her hands. He looked intently into her eyes, his own bright like some mystical pool of magic waters.

“You did?”

“Of course.” How could she not? How could she not think of him during every second that wasn’t filled with Jumin – and some that were? How could she not feel the lack of him, when his very presence was like sustenance to her heart? “Of course,” she whispered again.

“Good.” Then he smiled, and she felt his light pouring over her, and her lips curved in response.

He picked up her larger bag, and carrying her smaller one she followed him through the gate.

***

The house wasn’t large, but it was truly beautiful – a two-story craftsman style cottage with a main building and then a slightly smaller wing to the right. Both buildings were positively full of windows.

Zhara, fingers linked with Jihyun’s, stood still for a minute, just staring. A breeze carried with it the scent of pine needles underfoot, and a very slight chill in the air. She closed her eyes and inhaled.

“That’s the studio,” he explained, nodding to the smaller building. “Just one big room where I do my painting.”

“Wow…amazing that you could find a place so well suited to what you needed!”

“Yes, I was lucky,” he agreed as he moved forward to carry her bags into the house.

The inside was just as inviting as the exterior – wood paneling and floors, stone accents, warm lights. Little rectangles of stained glass topped all the windows.

She turned to him, a stupid grin on her face.

“I guess you like it?”

“It’s _perfect._ ”

It was; so right for him, so inviting and comforting. It absolutely embodied what she felt when she was with him. An amazing quality for a house…

He took her upstairs, dropping off her bags in one of three smallish bedrooms.

A twin bed – not his room, then.

“I’m sorry about the rooms being so small, and I think the people before had children,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair self-consciously.

“Hush,” she admonished softly, turning to him. She put a hand to his face, and he put his hand over hers, closed his eyes, with an expression bordering on pain.

She stepped closer, intending to ask him why he was upset…

But then it struck her how stupid she must be to wonder why.

It was her – she’d hurt him. She’d hurt him by going to Jumin’s, by reconciling with him when she knew that Jihyun…that he…

Yet again she found herself in a position of apologizing to Jihyun. The barrier behind which buzzed all her emotions over what had happened, began to crumble.

She took a shuddering breath, moved to wrap her arms around his waist, and laid her head against his chest, tears silently overflowing, rolling down her face one after another.

“I’m so sorry, Jihyun…” When he tried to shush her, even as he held her close, she shook her head. “I _am_ sorry, and I won’t be quiet, you don’t deserve this! Not any of it…it’s like I let him take and take and then I come to you to be replenished, and it’s not _fair._ ”

“Zhara, from the few times you texted me while you were there I don’t think he…mistreated you the whole time.”

She sniffled. “No, it…it was nice. For a few days. I thought I’d begun to understand him…”

“That’s what he needs, someone who really understands.”

“Why are you championing his cause, Jihyun? Why…why put in a good word for him at all?” She would never understand the selflessness that Jihyun exuded on a cellular level.

“Because he’s my best friend. And I want…”

He sighed, and she felt it echo through him, a little shiver that carried through even to his fingertips.

“I just want you both to be happy.”

Maybe his selflessness wasn’t as effortless as she’d always assumed. Maybe he had to work at it, had to consciously place others’ well-being ahead of his, when sometimes deep down he wanted to do otherwise.

That made it even worse.

“Jihyun…tell me. If I could be equally happy, with you, or with Jumin, who would you want me to choose?”

“That’s…a loaded question—”

“No it’s not. It’s easy.”

She knew he would say Jumin; he would put his friend’s needs over his own, as always.

But when he sighed again, she thought she heard a hitch in his breath…

“I can’t—how can I say what I _should_ say, Zhara? How can you ask me that, you know the answer!” He stepped back from her, almost pushing her away, but not quite.

His eyes were wet.

“I can’t just…just _give_ you to Jumin, I can’t do that, even though I know it’s the—”

The little whimper in his throat when she kissed him nearly tore out her insides.

His arms encircled her again, his mouth opening against hers with a quiet sigh.

The soft, sweet taste of him mixed with the salt of her tears, and she clung desperately to him.

Because once she kissed him, the realization that he was _necessary_ to her existence washed over her with such force she could barely stand.

 _Impossible_ , the functioning corner of her rational mind insisted. _You can’t have this realization with Jumin and then have it with Jihyun a week later…_

She must be defective, that was the only answer. But perhaps, being here with him would explain things, would reveal things about herself that she still couldn’t decipher.

When she leaned back to look at him, those magical eyes seemed to wash away a part of her guilt. What she was doing still wasn’t right, but…she’d given Jumin his chance.

And he’d wasted it.

Now it was Jihyun’s turn, and treating him with as much love and affection and acceptance as she had Jumin was only his due, and more besides.

She smiled, her tears finally drying – for the moment.

“You make me so warm inside,” she whispered. “Like there’s this core of joy in me that you uncover every time I’m with you, and when we’re apart it goes back into hiding.”

He laughed, and again she heard that little break in his voice.

“You’re very poetic all of a sudden,” he replied with a smile, and kissed her forehead.

“You make me that way.”

The slight crease between his brows – it was almost like her plainly stated affection hurt him somehow.

Maybe she’d have the chance, over the next few days, to figure that out. And, hopefully, to smooth his expression so it reflected nothing but happiness.

***

Jihyun took her back downstairs to show her the studio – a little hallway passed a patio to the right, set between the two buildings; the other side was lined with windows that looked out onto the back of the property.

When he opened the door to the studio, she gasped.              

The roof was practically made of glass. Midday light shone directly down, painting bright squares on the glistening wood floors – a similar shade but different shape and type of wood from the rest of the house. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams that poured down like liquid.

She walked further in, the light bathing her in warmth.

“I said once you weren’t like the sun,” she murmured absently. “But maybe I was wrong. This…is different.”

He joined her, wrapping his arms loosely about her from behind. “I thought you’d like it.”

And this _would_ be a perfect place to dance…almost as if…

“Did the previous owners create this for dancing?”

“I think they must have; the realtor mentioned they had two daughters, so perhaps for them? As soon as I saw it I thought of you.”

She blushed. How unutterably lucky was she, to have such a man thinking of _her_?

She turned her eyes back to the space. The back wall was lined with mirrors and a double barre – a barre! She didn’t _need_ one per se, but it would be nice…

And in the front of the big room was a door nestled between what might be two closets; this area was where all of Jumin’s painting things resided. It seemed he’d tried to tidy up, push them out of the way for her arrival.

“You shouldn’t have gone to any trouble…”

“I wanted to make sure you had space.”

She turned around, put her hands on his shoulders. “You’re so considerate of me. I don’t deserve it. _But_ ,” she overrode him as he started to object, “while I’m here I fully intend to do some nice things for you, for a change.”

“I see.” He leaned in closer. “I won’t deter you; I’m sure you’ll think of something lovely…” He looked down at her lips, then returned his gaze to her eyes.

Was…was Jihyun being _seductive_?? How the hell could she survive _that_?

“Maybe you could knit me a scarf or something,” he whispered, and then kissed her on the nose, and with a laugh released her.

She made an outraged noise before following him back out of the room, poking him in the side as he went.

“How dare you tease me like that!”

“I was conducting an experiment.”

“Uh huh, and what did you figure out?”

He glanced sideways at her. “That’s confidential.”

“Oh, I’ll get it out of you one way or another.”

“I have no doubt you will,” he lamented with resignation.

She snorted, but her insides were fluttering around like an entire forest of butterflies.

She’d seen him guilty, sensitive and hurt, caring and considerate, even angry.

But…silly? Joking? Yet another layer she wouldn’t be able to resist…

And was that such a bad thing?

Before she could dwell on this further they arrived at the door into the back yard.

“I wasn’t able to have it tended to before you arrived – they’re coming tomorrow, but please don’t mind the—”

“I love it!” She darted out into the sunshine, grass up to her calves, but she didn’t care. Autumn might be on its way in the chill that laced the breeze, but a few fat bees still buzzed around the remaining wildflowers.

She threw out her arms and twirled around, laughing.

God she’d missed this – grass, trees, blue sky, clean air. Why did she even live in the city…well originally it had been because she got a job there, but now that she was out of that lease, and worked from home…couldn’t she…live in a place like this, instead? She’d considered it a couple times as the end of her lease approached, but then she’d gotten caught up in the RFA…

“Jihyun,” she asked suddenly. “Do you think…is there any way I can do the RFA work away from that apartment?”

She stood facing away from the house, watching the flexible pines bend in the breeze.

“I’m sure we could arrange something. I’m surprised you stayed there as long as you did, considering your…antipathy towards its previous occupant.”

She shrugged. “I never really considered it my home, just a temporary stopover. And she didn’t really leave any traces, thankfully.” She carefully left out the words “ “that psychotic bitch” at the end.

“If you don’t care about that…then why do you ask?”

“Why would I want to stay there when I could be here?” she replied without thinking, her eyes drawn by a shifting cloud.

Jihyun didn’t answer, and abruptly she realized what her words probably sounded like.

Her face burned. “I didn’t mean _here_ as in, your house, I meant here as in…in the…in the country,” she tried to explain, with a groan of profound embarrassment.

“I know what you meant,” he said quietly, his tone unreadable. She turned, red face bedamned.

“Jihyun? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, exactly.”

“Ugh! Just _tell_ me!”

“It’s confidential,” he whispered with a slight curve of his lips. “Come on, I have plans for us this afternoon.” And he turned and went back into the house.

He was so damned enigmatic…

 _And I’m so damned transparent_ , she thought as she hurried after him.


	10. Chapter 10

She followed him into the kitchen, where he proposed that they attempt to make dinner together.

“I’m not great at cooking but maybe with your assistance…?” he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

She grinned, charmed beyond measure at the idea of cooking with him, in his kitchen, in his home…an activity as delightful as any she could have imagined.

“I’m no expert either, but I’m sure we can come up with something,” she replied, almost shyly.

 They made pasta; while they waited about an hour for the sauce to simmer properly, they sat at the farm table in the kitchen, and Jihyun told her about his recent painting projects.

“Have you started thinking about exhibits yet?”

He blushed and looked away. “Well, let’s not get carried away – painting may be what I actually want to do, but I wouldn’t say I’m that good at it. But maybe someday…”

“I hope you know you have to show me some of your work, I’ve only seen a couple of sketches since you started back up again!”

“Actually…” he glanced at her, then down. He reached across and took her hands where they rested on the table. “I was wondering…if you might let me paint you? I mean you can say no,” he rushed to add. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, I just—”

“Jihyun, you…wow,” she breathed.  “I don’t know what to say – I mean, I’d be honored…”

His eyes met hers again, and her breath caught at the intensity of emotions she found there. They stared at each other for several seconds, barely breathing, until the beep of the timer recalled them to reality.

He smiled ruefully and got up to stir the sauce.

She looked after him for a minute, a warm, soft pressure growing in her chest. She knew he was being modest about his art; he was naturally gifted, she’d seen his sketches, and Jumin told her his painting was already quite good when he was young.

But she didn’t really care; if he loved to paint, and wanted to paint _her_ , he could have the skill of a 6 year old and it wouldn’t bother her. It was a terribly sweet gesture regardless of his abilities.

They had dinner at the table, and Zhara couldn’t help smiling like an idiot almost the entire time. Such a ‘boring’ activity, but somehow it seemed so meaningful. Cooking, eating together, discussing things going on in their lives. It made her feel full…

In a way Jumin’s love never had.

Her smile faded abruptly, and she put her napkin to her lips to cover its absence.

She didn’t want to think of him right now. But didn’t she have to, at least to evaluate her feelings? Or was she just having a fling with Jihyun and expecting to jump right back into a relationship with Jumin once he came to his senses?

No, she emphatically didn’t want that…even if she did reconcile with him (again), she would take it much slower next time. Considering how sure she’d been that he’d changed, for the past week, only to have him revert so quickly…it was disconcerting, and painful, and she didn’t want to open herself to that again.

“Zhara? Did the parmesan go off or something?”

She managed to curve her lips in response. “No, I just thought of something unpleasant for a moment. Anyway, yes that’s a fantastic idea,” she added, belatedly realizing what he’d asked her, “as long as you don’t mind two things.”

“Oh?”

“Well for one, I think it might be distracting to have me flailing around while you’re trying to paint, but if you think you’ll be okay with it—”

“I’m more than okay with it.”

She had to roll her eyes. “You haven’t even seen me dance. You know that I mostly do contemporary ballet right? Jazz? Even hip-hop? You might hate it!”

He cleared his throat, then promptly took a large bite of bread.

She squinted at him. “Jihyun…what are you avoiding saying?”

He shook his head and pointed to his mouth, which was chewing with agonizing slowness.

She drummed her fingers on the table with an intensely suspicious expression until he was done, and he had no excuse left not to speak.

“I uhh…may have…got my hands on a video.”

Zhara paled, her fingers going still – recently the only ‘film’ of her was in a compromising position, one she didn’t really want to think about…

“God, no! I’m sorry, I should have phrased it differently – I mean someone’s recorded one of the recitals you were in, and I found it online…”

“Oh! Oh…” she exhaled with great relief, leaning back in her chair for a second. “Which performance? I guess it was just one someone took with their phone? The only productions I’ve been in that were professionally filmed I didn’t have a solo part…”

“Yes it was personal footage, and you featured prominently with 3 other women in a montage, a Prince tribute?”

She laughed; she couldn’t help herself, the memory just made her happy. It was one of the very few times she’d worked with other dancers and had a wonderful time.

“Yes! God that was amazing…if I could work with that company again I would do it at the drop of a hat. I was so lucky to be able to participate…” she trailed off for a minute, thinking of the fun she’d had with Fleur and the other dancers, how laid back they were, and yet so dedicated when it came to the dancing.

“Why couldn’t you?”

“What?”

“Work with them?”

“Oh…it’s…a long story.” She tried not to get too maudlin about it, he didn’t need her complaining or her sob story, just a summary. “Basically I only got to be in that show because it was kind of a side thing for them, and only a few of their dancers were participating, and then one of them had to leave for a family emergency. I was a backup for one of the other parts of the show, and immediately volunteered to try and learn the steps, because damn, I mean you saw them. Amazingly talented. Anyway they accepted and like I said it was a great experience, but…”

She sighed, willing herself not to get angry again. “The guy that ran the show, who’d invited them on, Justin, was actually one of the girls’ brother. He was who I ‘actually’ worked for. And…he got really mad that I ‘ditched’ his production to join theirs. It was stupid because we were in the same damn show, and he’d invited them on as a guest act, but nevertheless he kicked me out of the company afterwards and also told me they wouldn’t let me back in either, because of his sister.”

“I’m sorry. That seems very…vindictive and childish…”

“Right? But that wasn’t really the reason – he hated me from the beginning, because I didn’t let him talk down to me, and because of my ‘tendency to flaunt the rules’, the list goes on. He just needed a reason to get rid of me.”

Jihyun tilted his head slightly. “Have you tried contacting them? The Prince ladies?”

Zhara chuckled at this nickname, but shook her head. “I didn’t want to make things awkward for them, given what Justin had said.”

“Could it be possible that he didn’t really speak for them, and was just “talking shit” if you will?”

Zhara chortled. “I don’t know why that’s so funny when you say it, but it is…anyway, I…guess he could have been?” She pondered the possibility. At this point, it couldn’t hurt to just…drop them a line, perhaps?

“You know, maybe I will,” she murmured as she got up to take their plates to the sink. “I mean, I no longer operate in those circles really, and it’s been almost a year, so…it probably wouldn’t do any harm.”

Jihyun came up behind her and fiddled with her braid as she rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “Well, the bottom line is, I definitely would love to see you dance in person, even if you’re just practicing, because you’re just so…full of life, and happiness.”

He kissed the top of her head, and she sighed and leaned back against him.

“I’m glad you think so, although lately I feel like my dancing is just full of conflict.”

“Well, bittersweet emotion can also be beautiful in expression, although I always hope to see you free of worry.”

She dried her hands and turned to him. “I suppose you’d know a lot about expressing wistfulness through your art, hmm?”

“I suppose I do.”

***

That night, Jihyun walked her to her bedroom. And stopped at the door.

She blushed. Like a stupid teenager. Would he kiss her? Stupid to wonder – she’d kissed _him_ already today. Not to mention what they’d done prior to this…

But somehow none of that mattered.

“You should get ready for bed,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Then he tugged gently at her braid. “Do you always wear this? I don’t think I’ve seen you without it…”

She blinked. “I…no, sometimes I wear it down, I just…I’m lazy,” she finished with a chuckle.

“I see. I was just curious. I don’t dislike it…it suits you.”

He smiled at her, and then…kissed her cheek.

She looked down, a little disappointed, as he walked away.

“Jihyun?”

He turned back in an instant. “Yes Zhara?”

“Will you…come say good night to me? Before you go to sleep?”

He seemed almost to sigh his smile into existence. “Of course.”

She beamed at him, and shut the door, turning to pull her pajamas out of her bag. Shorts and a t-shirt with a stupid picture of a cat tucked into bed…

But once she’d put them on – never the least frisson of doubt running through her mind over how Jihyun would accept her attire, or what he would think of her being so casual – she sat on the bed, head in hands.

Wasn’t this…wrong? Wasn’t all of it just…morally questionable? As much as she didn’t want to think about it, she forced herself to. She couldn’t hide from the facts.

She’d spent the last week with another man. Had made love with him every night, and some mornings; had pleasured him several times when he came home from work. Had shared some of her deepest thoughts with him, her most profound opinions.

 _And after all that_ , her brain whispered, _he cast you aside_.

That wasn’t strictly true – she’d left of her own accord. But what was true was that he’d suggested something to her that made her believe her worth to him was far less than she’d previously assumed.

Not to mention his complete disregard to the effect the rumors would have on her.

Meanwhile, Jihyun had accepted her decision to stay with Jumin; had given her encouragement, well wishes. Had listened to her when she questioned her feelings, and even when she confirmed them.

He was so caring, kind, selfless.

He was…

_He was everything._

As soon as her brain provided these words, he knocked on the door. She composed herself, quickly slid under the covers, and called for him to enter.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, facing her. Glanced down at her shirt.

“That’s very…meta,” he joked, and she made a noise between a sigh and a laugh.

Then his hand was behind her neck, and again he kissed her forehead.

“Jihyun…”

“It was always so easy for you,” he said rather abruptly, “to call me by my name…”

“I barely knew you as V,” she whispered, confused by this change of subject.

“I’m glad.” He was smiling, but as their eyes locked, his smile faded.

Then he kissed her – his lips brushing hers once, twice, over and over; gentle, searching, discovering. She quickly framed his face with her own hands, pulling him in, wanting desperately to show him what he meant to her. She couldn’t, not in words, not yet. But her lips told him a story of gratitude, of acceptance. And of something deeper...

All too soon he pulled away. But although she, too, thought it was best they end the kiss before things progressed further, she didn’t want to let him go, not yet.

She slid her arms around his neck, and hugged him close for several long, glorious seconds. He returned her embrace, and for a moment he seemed to relax against her – relying on her, for a change, sharing a little of his burden.

Something he desperately deserved, and something she would try to encourage him to do more of in the future.

“Goodnight, Jihyun,” she whispered, then kissed him on the cheek before she leaned back against the pillows.

He touched her cheek. “Sweet dreams.”

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am an idiot and I referred to her dancing as lyrical dance because I don't know enough about dance. It is MUCH closer to contemporary ballet (it has now been corrected). There is no...jumping, or flailing, despite how she jokes with Jihyun. I'll post an example at the end of the next chapter, when she actually dances...  
> Oops.


	11. Chapter 11

Zhara stood in the little bedroom, both dance outfits she’d brought laying on the bed.

Jihyun was already in the studio, painting away; she’d taken some time to shower and now even more time to…deliberate.

She’d brought very different clothes from her visit to Jumin’s. More casual, less…revealing. But her dance clothes…

It wasn’t that they were _meant_ to be revealing, but what they _were_ meant to do was allow full range of movement. Which necessitated…less fabric.

She chewed her lip as she looked between the two. One of them had slightly more comfortable shorts but was decidedly more risqué, if she were wearing it in front of someone. The other one covered a little more, but the straps on the top ended up chafing her after a while…

Zhara shook her head at her lame excuses.

_Who am I kidding, I may as well admit I want to wear this one because my butt looks amazing in these shorts._

They were barely shorts at all, to be honest. She stuffed the outfit back in her bag. She remembered another occasion when she’d been too exhibitionist while dancing, and she certainly didn’t want a repeat performance of that.

She tugged on the sheer high-waisted skirt with built-in shorts underneath, along with a tight top that hit just below her ribcage, with crisscrossing straps. It was pink, and very cute, without…exposing her unnecessarily. She felt a little ridiculous already – for the past few months when she practiced she had no audience and didn’t care what she wore; being so uptight about her clothing choice made her feel even more self-conscious.

She rolled her eyes at herself, put on her nude jazz flats and grabbed her straightening iron.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she opened the door and Jihyun was there, a paint-streaked hand raised to knock.

He was a little startled as well, and they both laughed for a moment at their reactions. She smirked when she noticed a slight flush in his cheeks when his eyes briefly wandered over her outfit. Her own quickly did the same; his old, rather worn white shirt liberally sprinkled with various colors, old and new. It was somehow very endearing…

“I was just checking to make sure you hadn’t thought better of coming down for some reason,” he explained.

“No, I just umm…” she struggled to think of an excuse other than ‘ _I was debating whether to show you my entire booty or only half of it’_.

“It’s fine, take your time—what is that?” He motioned towards the straightener in her hand.

She put a hand to her hair. _Ugh_ – she’d forgotten her hair was down, and still somewhat damp…it probably looked like a rat’s nest.

“Well you asked me about my hair yesterday, and I thought I’d actually…do it, I guess…”

“I see.”

She blinked at him. “I’m glad someone does.”

“I wouldn’t want to influence how you prefer to wear it,” he explained, or thought he was, she supposed.

“…you don’t like it when it’s straight, is that what you’re saying?”

He looked uncomfortable. “If you mean like it was at the party, it was very nice,” he dodged.

“Uh huh.”

Finally he shrugged. “It just doesn’t seem…to suit you, I guess. It’s so…rigid and orderly.”

She chortled in genuine delight. “Indeed, orderly I am not. Well you can’t prefer it to look like _this_ ,” she insisted, gesturing to the mass of somewhat tangled strawberry blonde locks over her shoulder, in varying states of curl and wave. That was her problem with it, really – it couldn’t seem to pick a flavor. One hair stylist had joked that she had 7 different hair types at once.

He cleared his throat. “I…think it looks fine, I mean if it doesn’t get in your way while dancing you could just…leave it…”

“Jihyun. Now you’re just being nice. I’ll braid it at least…”

“I don’t want to seem like I’m trying to control how you wear your hair, it seems…creepy.”

She tilted her head, remembering some of the nice things Jumin had said about her hairstyle for the party…and suddenly realized that he’d been subtly suggesting that she wear it like that all the time.

And he’d even asked her if she needed him to order her any hair products brought up from the shops in his building; she’d thought he was being considerate, but now…now she seriously doubted it.

That asshole.

She tossed her straightening iron and accompanying hair products on the bed, and exited the room, closing the door with a snap. Jihyun regarded her with raised eyebrows, but she just headed down the stairs, combing through her hair with her fingers.

“I assume you need coffee in the mornings, like any normal human?” he asked with a chuckle.

“God, yes,” she replied emphatically, following him into the kitchen.

“I’ve already had two but that’s only about 40% of my coffee intake…”

“Jihyun! Do you even sleep?”

His hand paused for half a second as he removed the carafe from the coffee maker. “Of course I do.”

She stared at him, but he was so calm…she couldn’t tell if her question had bothered him or not. Should she ask? Or was that presuming too much?

Surely not – she wanted to know. Everything about him – his joy, his pain, his aspirations, his fears.

“Jihyun…” she put her hand on his arm. He set down the coffee pot, but didn’t look at her. “I…would like to…” What? What _did_ she want from him?

“I’d like to be the person you talk to, about the things that keep you up at night.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain. “You deserve better than to hear things like that,” he whispered, his hands clenching into fists on the counter.

“Don’t say that! How can you say I’m worthy of anything after what I’ve done?”

He glanced at her with an expression of what was almost anger. “You’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Haven’t I? Anyway, that’s not the point, and I’m sorry I brought it up – I just…”

He sighed and put an arm around her. “I’m sorry.” He met her eyes. “Maybe someday I can tell you. But for now let’s leave such dark conversations and spend the day doing what we love. Hm?”

She smiled – it was so easy, when she was with him. Even though there were shadows underneath, he did make her want to smile, so often.

They finished making their coffee and headed into the studio.

***

“So what music do you want?”

“Hmm. Don’t you have something on when you paint?”

“Well yes, but my painting is hardly as dependent on the music as your dancing is. And what I listen to is…slow. And some of it might seem…sad, I guess.”

“Jihyun…you may have seen a very upbeat dance in that video, but a lot of what I do is…”

Her brow lowered. Was it possible that he didn’t really see her as she really was? That he thought she was bright, all the time? That she didn’t have darkness? Was that why he…cared about her? Because he thought she wasn’t flawed like everyone else?

“Something’s upset you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry if I—”

“Jihyun, I’m not all sunshine and rainbows, you do know that, right?” She asked him point blank, hoping to god he wasn’t about to try to convince her she was wrong…

He tilted his head. “Of course I know that. Why do you ask?”

Out of nowhere her chin trembled; why _was_ it so important to her that he understand?

“Because I want you to see me,” she whispered, knowing she wasn’t making sense…but the fear that he might ignore the bad in her, refuse to see it, was very real. After what he’d been through she could understand his need for someone good, and happy. And she certainly didn’t have any hidden “devils” like some people she could name.

But she wasn’t perfect, she wouldn’t laugh and smile all the time, she couldn’t hide her flaws and her fears and her pain just to save him. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them…

“Zhara…I’m not trying to make you out to be anything you aren’t, please believe me.”

He sat down heavily on his stool, shoulders rounded, staring at the floor. “I should never have asked you to come here.”

The sharp pain in her chest nearly took her breath. “J-Jihyun?”

His eyes, wide, flew to hers, and he jumped up to take her hands. “No! That’s not what I meant, I just—it puts too much on you, I can’t expect you to…take on the burden of…”

He trailed off, and let go of her hands to run both his through his hair. “I don’t know how to…to treat you, Zhara,” he whispered finally. “I want to understand you, to _see_ you, but you might have to…to help me. And I’m sorry to ask for that, but—"

He was always assuming everything was his fault, that he’d done something wrong. She wondered if she could ever help him get over that tendency that had been beaten into him for years…

He let out a little huff of surprise when she threw her arms around his waist.

“We’ll figure it out,” she murmured against his adorably paint-stained shirt. “I promise.”

He sighed heavily, and hugged her back, laying his cheek on her hair for a moment.

“Bear with me, Z…”

“Mmm, you’re such a chore,” she teased, and when he laughed softly, the noise a rumble against her ear, she thought she might cry. She concentrated on smoothing her expression as he let her go, and picked up his phone.

“Alright, since you seem all too eager to hear my music, I’ll oblige you,” he said with a little smile.

She moved to the other end of the room and started stretching as slow, haunting piano notes swelled inside the room.

“Just tell me if you want me to—”

“Shh” she hushed him as she bent double.

She closed her eyes, and let the music seep through her, filling her with a myriad of emotions, some she couldn’t even name.

She stretched, using the barre as an aid, and swayed a little to the music – but he was right, this one was too slow to dance to. And it almost hurt, in her gut, to listen to it – dancing to it would be even worse.

As the song drew to a close, she stood, careful to turn away so it didn’t seem like she was checking his reaction; she wasn’t supposed to be dancing for him, but how could she not? How could she forget that he was watching?

She couldn’t deny that this was part of what she lived for – her craft was an art. Just as he wanted to express himself with his paintings, but also wanted to inspire emotions in others…she felt the same.

To look out at her audience after a performance and see their faces full of emotion – that was what she coveted as an artist.

And now, her audience was someone of great importance to her…someone she wanted to inspire above all others.

A new song was beginning. Suddenly she felt unprepared, gauche. She shouldn’t dance in front of him unchoreographed! Even if that was how she preferred to dance…then again, wouldn’t he rather see her put all her heart into it, instead of all her technical expertise?

She squeezed her eyes shut.

_Just dance, you idiot. This is supposed to be therapy, exercise, not a damn internal struggle._

She forced the thoughts out. Released her insecurities, her inhibitions. All the words leaked from her head.

Longing pulled her body in one direction; hope turned her in another. The melody seemed to search for an answer it couldn’t quite find; she searched with it, arms reaching, fingers extending. Her feet, her torso, her hands mapped the essence of the song – and of her heart – better than any words could have. And she truly let go for the first time in weeks.

The last time had been that night that Jumin showed up at the theater; even when she’d danced for him, later, she’d never given herself up. She had to retain control at all times…

She hadn’t realized it then, but as the music came to a close and her sense began to trickle back, she sank to her knees, messy hair hanging in a riotous curtain before her.

Not once had she ever truly let go in front of Jumin. To him, her dancing had been…flagrant, wildly emotional. But she’d been _thinking_ the whole time, and she didn’t do that when she truly danced. Suddenly she wondered if he would even want her anymore – if he even did, now – if he saw how she’d danced today.

Thoughts of Jumin were quickly erased when Jihyun approached her.

He knelt in front of her, echoing her position, his hands on his knees. Getting a hold of herself, her breathing now returned to normal, she reached up and pushed her hair out of her face.

Anticipating his reaction with dread and eagerness alike.

_His face…_

She’d never seen him look like that. Not even after…well, she didn’t want to remember that; and besides, this wasn’t the same. Then, he was just…devastated. Now he looked…full? Overwhelmed? But not exactly in a bad way.

Immediately she put her hand to his tear-stained cheek; he covered it with his own, but he still didn’t move towards her – giving her space.

She didn’t need it.

She surged forward, raising up onto her knees, and gathered him against her chest. He made a little noise and wrapped his arms around her; she could feel him shudder a little bit as he spent the last of his tears in her arms.

She stroked his back, kissed his hair. Waited until he was ready to speak – and she needed a moment to recover anyway, after the flood of realizations that were threatening to drown her. But she couldn’t let them, not just yet…on the other hand she could no longer deny them, either.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Why would you be sorry?” she asked quietly, loosening her hold but not dropping her arms.

“I should be…clapping. Or at the very least, smiling…”

“No. You should be doing exactly as you are.”

He pulled away. “I’m so afraid of insulting you,” he insisted. His eyes were intense, verdant pools in which she could happily drown. Especially when they gazed at her with such intensity, such need.

“If my performance affected you, in pretty much any way, that’s the opposite of an insult,” she explained, her hands still on his face. “And to be as moved as you obviously are…is…the highest of compliments.”

Then he did smile. And she _did_ drown. Or may as well have; breathing was forgotten. She leaned forward, her lips brushing his…

She felt him inhale sharply, and she halted, a mere breath between them – she should retreat, he wasn’t—

But then he was kissing her back, hands sliding around her, an irrational thrill rippling through her when his fingers touched the bare sliver of skin between skirt and top.

She’d never been kissed with such passion and yet such sweetness – her feeling of drowning intensified, and she gave herself up to it wholeheartedly.

Finally, she drew back, her arms still tight around him, needing to find an answer in those impossibly green eyes. And she did…

“When I kiss you,” he whispered, “I taste the essence of life…”

She smiled slightly, touched by his gentle poetry.

“Do you want to know what I taste, Jihyun?” she asked, suddenly afraid, her voice shaking. Wasn’t it wrong of her to tell him? What if it upset him, what if he…

He seemed to sense her hesitation, her fear. “Tell me, Zhara…”

_Say it._

“I…” she swallowed, and forced herself to meet his eyes. “I taste love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important refs (if you want them):  
> Song 1 (when she's warming up): Beth's Theme by Ólafur Arnalds https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmKkaCKWreM
> 
> Song 2: Opus 54 Dustin O'Halloran https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=goBYQQ5-uZs
> 
> A very loose example of how she might dance...I also like Olga Kuraeva as a dance reference for her but she's a little more 'abstract' than I imagine Zhara. https://youtu.be/WI8-v3XSy0s?t=16
> 
> The inspiration for the video that Jihyun saw of Zhara.... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U86gQ_9lvO8


	12. Chapter 12

Jihyun made some sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, and before she could interpret this she was crushed against him, and she felt his breath catch. He seemed almost to _vibrate_ with emotion. Her anxiety over their situation made her worry his reaction was one of confusion, even sadness. But every cell inside her refuted this; she knew he was happy. It radiated off of him like another layer of body heat.

She stayed there, basking in the joy he emanated, for several minutes, feeling so safe and right inside his arms that she thought she could remain there forever.

But eventually he pulled away, released her. The clouds that had been floating intermittently across the sky all morning released their veil from the sun at the same time, and golden sunlight fell through the glass ceiling to paint them in warmth.

The rays reflected off his hair, transforming him into some sort of otherworldly being. She put a hand to his face.

_I will never forget this. This is my Jihyun, smiling and happy and warm and bright. This is how I must always strive to make him feel._

“I love you,” she whispered, not because she needed to clarify, but because she couldn’t help herself. She was so full of her feelings for him she couldn’t keep them quiet.

He closed his eyes, still smiling. “I never thought I’d hear you say it.”

She tilted her head.

“Zhara, do you have any idea how long I’ve been in love with you?”

Her mouth fell open, cheeks warmer than the sun could account for.

Jihyun laughed – almost giggled – and leaned forward to kiss her lower lip. Naturally she was fine with waiting a few minutes for an explanation when he distracted her so beautifully.

“You’re very charming when you’re confused,” he murmured, and kissed her cheek, her temple. Brushed a lock of hair away from her face.

“Good, since you seem to keep me in such a state…”

“Honestly I thought…early on, I assumed you knew. And you—”

“What do you mean, early on?” She squinted at him, skeptical of the insinuation that she’d so grossly misread him.

“Well, at the party, at least.”

Her eyes went wide as dinner plates. “At the…are you _serious_?? Jihyun you didn’t…I mean you…oh my _god_ …”

He laughed again, and she couldn’t help but smile at the sound, even though she covered her face in embarrassment.

He’d been so attentive, then, but she just assumed that it was because of everything that was happening, with her just joining and then Rika and Mint Eye and Seven and just…

“But Jihyun,” she mumbled through her fingers, “you couldn’t have been _that_ enamored of me back then, I mean…” She peeked at him. “You just met me, in person anyway…”

He shook his head ruefully, a little smile still dancing over his lips. “I was…stupid over you, honestly. Luciel had shown me a picture, and I’d talked to you so much I felt I already knew you, but then…when you showed up to the party, I…”

He reached out and pulled her hands from her face. His own was serious, now; intent.

“If I could have sat at a table with you, all night, and just…talked to you, and no one else, I would have.”

“Jihyun,” she mumbled, looking away, self-conscious.

“No, listen. You’re right. I wasn’t in love with you then – I didn’t even know what love was. But you taught me.”

She slowly turned back to him, her eyes full of remembered sadness – how damaged he was by what had been done to him, and how he’d been broken even more by the distrust that arose from his misguided attempt to protect everyone.

“You taught me that love doesn’t have to mean breaking in two. It can mean…knitting back together the things that were torn apart.”

He squeezed her hands, fleeting clouds now sending soft shadows sweeping over them.

“But I do have something to apologize for – and I know you don’t want me to apologize for everything,” he hurried to add with a little laugh. “But this is…this is serious.”

She remained silent, content to let him speak his piece, this time anyway.

“I…I shouldn’t have done what I did, after Jumin…after you two…”

“You didn’t do anything _to_ me, Jihyun, it’s not like I didn’t invite—”

“I know, I know that,” he interrupted. “But…I knew. How I felt. And I wronged you, and possibly Jumin, by…reaching for what I wanted so badly.”

Zhara sighed. “I’m more to blame, since I _didn’t_ know, or at least understand, and I did it anyway,” she whispered.

“Didn’t know I loved you? Well, how could you?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I…” she cleared her throat, stared at her hand where it rested in his, traced a streak of paint along his thumb. “I felt it, that night, in the living room. It felt like…” she searched for the right words, but didn’t think she could find anything that fit. “Like I had flowers, a whole garden’s worth, in my chest, blooming, and there wasn’t room, but there _had_ to be. Because there they were.”

She glanced at him, worried he would laugh at her stupid metaphors.

He reached out to put a hand over her heart. He wasn’t laughing.

“There wasn’t room…because the garden was already occupied.”

Suddenly she was crying, and she hated it, she hated that her time with Jihyun was tainted with this reminder of someone else. And the reminder that the part of the garden that had been filled with love for Jumin was now brown, and brittle.

Jihyun pulled her against him, and she sobbed into his shirt.

“I’m so sorry he’s done this to you, my Zhara…so sorry…”

Of course, Jihyun would be sorry she was hurt, not sorry that she was crying – in his arms – about another man.

“D-don’t be sorry for me, Jihyun,” she stammered through her tears. “I brought this all on myself, I deserve every bit of it, maybe I don’t deserve exactly what Jumin did but I deserve to hurt over it!” Her vehemence startled even her, but she found the truth of her words incontrovertible. She’d hidden the true state of affairs from Jumin, and she’d entered a relationship with Jihyun when she already loved someone else.

The fact that she sincerely loved them both meant nothing.

“Please do not say things like that,” he begged her. “No matter what mistakes any of us made, you don’t deserve for him to treat you as he did. And the fact that he hasn’t spoken to you since…or to me, for that matter…”

“Did you…did you try to talk to him about it?”

“I would not have betrayed your confidence,” he refuted, and kissed the top of her head. She shivered and tightened her arms around him, torn between guilt that they were speaking of this and overwhelming gratitude that she had him to comfort her. “But I did try to call him a couple times, and texted him as well, since he hasn’t been logging into the messenger. I hoped to see if I could at least figure out…something. What he was thinking, I guess. But he’s ignoring my calls.”

She had only logged in enough to keep the others from questioning her absence, although she knew they could all tell something was up. But at least without Seven having to watch the apartment all the time, they didn’t necessarily know she wasn’t at home. Jaehee had mentioned that Jumin was acting strangely, but Zhara chalked that up to the nonsense with his father.

She sighed heavily.

And remembered, vividly and painfully, that moment in the book shop.

When she should have told Jumin goodbye. Should have made a decision, then, to stay with Jihyun, and instead she’d been unutterably selfish and stupid.

No matter how kindly Jihyun refuted her regrets, it was the truth. She _had_ brought it on herself, by not being honest with all parties from the beginning.

It was all so idiotic, considering she hadn’t even been in a relationship with either of them; there would have been nothing wrong with telling them both the truth – that she was dating two men at once. It wouldn’t have been as reprehensible as lying.

But as soon as she thought this, she knew that was a fallacy; there was no way Jumin would have accepted her dating someone else. Possibly _especially_ not his best friend. Jumin was too…possessive, and honestly too controlling for that.

She couldn’t lie, she had been attracted to the former, and had dismissed the latter, or at least willfully disregarded it.

But the real question was…

Did she still love Jumin? She’d felt a hundred percent sincere when she’d said those words to him, and she didn’t think her love would just die because he’d said some rude things to her.

Well, rude was an understatement. He’d treated her like shit. She could honestly admit that he didn’t _deserve_ for her to love him, not after how he’d acted before she left his penthouse.

But that didn’t mean she just…stopped.

But suddenly she realized, that wasn’t the most important thing anyway.

She leaned back, wiping her eyes. Jihyun let her go, just watched her, those verdant eyes full of concern.

The answer she must find, the paramount question, was not whether she still loved Jumin, as well as Jihyun.

But what she was going to do about it.

That corner of her heart, that swath of garden that was battered and neglected – would she try to mend it? Tend it, attempt to coax it back to life?

Or just…let it go? Turn the earth until nothing remained of what it once was?

Let those vibrant colors that occupied the rest of her heart, bleed into both sides, so nothing remained of the feelings Jumin had once planted?


	13. Chapter 13

That afternoon, Zhara sat in the back yard, alone. The wind was picking up, disturbing the tops of the trees, occasionally dropping leaves here and there about her, but she didn’t mind. She just had to think.

This time, she was determined to make a decision. And she knew, deep down, what that decision would be. But she couldn’t make it lightly. Despite the harsh words, the chill that had fallen between them, she didn’t want to hurt Jumin. And she would; there was no way to avoid it.

Of course, the best reason for choosing Jihyun was simply that he treated her better. He always had, even when they were just friends. He’d never spoken harshly to her, never unduly criticized her…it wasn’t that he didn’t disagree with her ever, or always let her “have her way”, but he remained kind to her even if their opinions differed. Always thoughtful. Respectful.

Attitudes Jumin had rarely expressed, might not be capable of showing.

That wasn’t fair – he had been thoughtful several times while she’d been with him. But…kindness didn’t come easily to him. It was so difficult, encouraging him to think of others.

Whereas Jihyun was the opposite; she’d once practically yelled at him to think of himself, for a change.

She did still love Jumin; it would be lying to say she suddenly felt nothing, now that she understood her emotions for Jihyun.

What she felt for Jumin was different, but no less real. A fire that she’d been unable to stifle in herself; a fortress she’d been desperate to breach; the birth of emotions that she was proud to have brought forth.

But she couldn’t spend her life explaining to someone how to treat her. The thought of it was exhausting.

She didn’t think everything would be roses with Jihyun, all the time. She wasn’t naïve; they would have problems, just like any couple. And he came with his own set of difficulties – his innate predilection for keeping secrets, for one. A tendency that arose from wanting to shelter others from harm, but still a flaw, and one she knew would come up at some point in their shared future.

And lord knew she had more than enough bad traits of her own to cause issues between them. Her temper, her stubbornness, her overblown sense of independence.

But Jihyun would calm her down, not fan the flames of her flaws as Jumin would. As he _had_.

She had to let him go.

She knew it, but she cried all the same. That vulnerability that she’d so cherished in him; the way he’d opened up to her as he had to no one else; the intensity with which he’d loved her. These were all things that might end up buried underneath twenty more layers of stone around his heart, when she told him goodbye.

The shuddering breath he’d taken when she revealed her feelings to him…he’d seemed confident, telling her he loved her, but when she said it back he was so relieved…would she ever forget that feeling? His head against her chest, his arms tight around her…

_There could be no work of art more lovely than you…_

A sob escaped her as she remembered how eager he was to learn how to please her, make her happy.

They’d agreed then, that they knew they would argue sometimes, and that was okay. And for a few days she’d trusted, so implicitly, that nothing like that first time would ever happen again. But that was before the way he’d acted that last night.

When he’d shown her how quickly he could revert to the Jumin she’d first met, the one she’d so disliked, on the surface. Cold, calculating.

If every argument between them – and she was sure they could be explosive – ended with him turning into a block of ice…she didn’t think she could survive a love like that.

She didn’t want to try.

Their flame, however brightly it had burned, was destined to burn out.

# ***

She went back inside as the sun began to set, shadows streaking the yard with fiery tendrils.

Just in time to see Jihyun take a large smoking pan out of the oven.

He set it on the stove like a hot potato, and proceeded to wave the oven mitt over it to disperse the smoke…but clearly whatever he’d tried to make was destined for death.

She pursed her lips on a snort, and when that didn’t work and her laughter threatened to overwhelm her, she put both hands over her mouth.

When he turned and saw her at the back door, he made a face of such comic regret that even her hands weren’t enough to contain her merriment.

“You may laugh, but this just means we have no dinner,” he scolded mildly, barely repressing a grin.

“What was it supposed to be?” she inquired when she got her breath back, creeping further into the kitchen to inspect the disaster, but still maintaining a safe distance.

“It was a casserole,” he answered dolefully, heaving a sigh over the charred remains of his dinner attempt. “I suppose we could go into the village to eat…or there’s a pizza in the freezer…”

His melodramatically sad face was more than she could take, and she laughed again and drew him away from the stove – and the still smoldering ruin of a casserole – to put her arms around his neck.

“Thank you for trying, oppa,” she murmured playfully. “I’m sure we can figure something else out.”

He smiled at her silly nickname, and linked his hands loosely behind her back.

“How about I make breakfast,” she suggested, leaning up to kiss him.

“Mmm, sounds delightful – as long as you promise you’ll do it again, another time,” he answered.

She tilted her head. “Meaning?”

He pulled her a little closer. “Meaning, one morning after I’ve kept you up all night…”

A flush abruptly stained her cheeks. “Oh really, now?”

“Mhmm,” he murmured, closing in. “For instance…”

She held her breath, heart thudding uncomfortably against her rib cage…

“Ghost watching. I think this house is haunted.”

She squealed with indignation. “One of these days I will stop falling for that!”

He laughed out loud and released her to go get eggs and other breakfast-related ingredients out of the refrigerator. “I hope not…”

“Just you wait,” she mumbled, determined not to smile. She had to figure out a way to get him back for his teasing.

Too bad all the things she could think of were more in the spirit of how she’d originally taken his comments, rather than how he meant them.

Then again, it would be fun, to surprise him with some naughty—

“Aren’t those going to burn?” Jihyun asked, looking over her shoulder as she absently stood over the bacon.

“Shit!” She flipped the pieces over quickly to avoid charring one side, and shook her head. She was hardly going to get her revenge on him by burning the bacon.

Eventually her dinner offering was complete, and again they ate together at the farm table in the kitchen.

Something she could get used to, she thought as she finished her food, and sat for a minute watching Jihyun, who was telling her a story about a time that his photography had gotten him in trouble with authorities in another country.

At the end of his story she chuckled, but her reaction wasn’t perhaps exactly appropriate to his punchline.

“Everything okay?”

She smiled softly and got up, walking around the table to put her arms around him.

“Everything is…pretty damn good, honestly,” she murmured, and sighed as he linked his arms around her and leaned into her chest.

“I saw some ice cream in the freezer, did you want to have some of it for dessert?” she asked rather absently, her mind occupied with the silken feel of his hair under her fingers.

“I can think of something else I’d rather have for dessert,” he whispered, and she snorted.

“I’m already catching on to your teasing, see?” she pointed out with a smirk.

But he didn’t laugh; instead he lifted her shirt slightly to press a kiss against her ribcage. “I wasn’t joking.”

She gasped, desire welling hot, undeniable. Sensations racing like lightning from where his lips met her skin.

She bent to claim his mouth, needing to show him just how much she agreed with the direction this conversation had taken.

“Jihyun…” she breathed when they parted.

“I’m sorry, I should have waited until you were ready, I—”

“Believe me, I’ve _been_ ready,” she cut him off, kissed him again, though briefly this time. “But…”

She didn’t want to say it out loud. But she was so scared. A deep, solid fear of what he would think of her if they slept together now. She’d already given him such a horrible impression – after what she’d done with Jumin, and then with him too…

Her face burned with shame at the memory, and she looked away.

He stood, not releasing his hold on her. “Z? Look at me, what’s wrong?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I…it’s stupid,” she prefaced, “but I guess I’m worried of what you’ll think of me…after everything, I just…I don’t want to seem…”

Finally she lifted her eyes. “I want to be _good_. For you.”

He sighed, an expression of pain flitting across his face. “My sweet, lovely Z,” he murmured, brushing her hair away from her face as he gazed intently into her amber eyes. “You _are_ good for me. I wish I could explain to you…”

He sat again, and pulled her down to sit in his lap. “It’s like, my whole life – my adult life, anyway – I had a certain light source. My own. From one direction. Everything I did, all my art, all my actions in life, were lit by that one light source. When there were shadows, if I wanted to illuminate them, I had to change my own light in order to make others brighter.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, content to let him explain.

“Sometimes….the shadows were so dark, that if I wanted to brighten them, I had to…expend all my energy, make my light source as bright as the sun.” His voice was quiet, but emphatic, and her chin trembled as she thought about all he’d been through. “I thought it was okay to do that. For years, I thought that’s what love was supposed to be. Expend all of yourself, so the other person could have what they needed.”

A tear slid down Zhara’s cheek, but she didn’t interrupt.

“Then, another light shone on me, from a different angle.” His arms tightened around her, and she shuddered a little trying to keep more tears at bay.

She knew he loved her – of course she did; now that he’d told her, she could see it in everything he did, in every glance, in every touch. But this…these revelations ran even deeper than that.

“A different shade: warm, bright, inviting. I’d never felt anyone else’s light on me before – my mother tried to give me hers, but I never really let it touch me, not enough.” The regret in his voice when he said this almost destroyed what little was left of her composure. “A light that vibrated with…with life, with laughter, with hope. And it….it showed me things that I had no idea existed. Things that my own light could never reveal.”

He shifted her so he could look into her eyes. “You taught me that love is two lights, Zhara. Not one, trying to hold back all the darkness. And there will be darkness, sometimes – we’re only human. But I don’t expect you to…to cancel out all of mine, or vice versa. I love you as you are, any flaws included – few though I can discern right now.”

She chuckled weakly and wiped her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll find more and more as time goes by, Jihyun,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “I can’t…put into words how your explanation makes me feel. But…it makes me happy. Maybe one day I can find the words.”

“Your feelings radiate off of you, it’s like a drug to me,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “It’s like…breathing in…happiness and vitality…”

“Jihyun…” she stared intently into his magical eyes, “my love...”

A little hitch in his breath.

“If I can make you truly happy, for one moment, I feel like I can combat any darkness…”

“I’m starting to believe you can,” he breathed with a little smile, before pulling her in for a long and intense embrace.

“My Zhara,” he breathed when he finally pulled away. “I…I’m sorry, but I have to ask, I can’t stand to wonder any more…have you….figured anything out?”

The intense swell of emotion that rushed up in her chest just confirmed the decision she’d already made.

“I have,” she whispered, mapping those improbably green eyes.

His eagerness for her answer was evident in the intensity of his gaze.

“I choose you, Jihyun Kim. I choose you.”


	14. Chapter 8 **BRANCH** - "Jumin Route"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***DANGER***IMPORTANT*** This chapter BRANCHES OFF from the main story! Please beware before you read on!
> 
> This is sort of where I originally intended this fic to go when I first started writing, but as so often happens, the characters got away from me and it went in a totally different direction. BUT I still kind of had this idea so I wanted to put it out there, especially for those who are big Jumin fans. Not to mention it seems to kind of make sense to have another 'route' sort of like in the game. But if you don't want to ruin the continuity of your Entanglement (aka In This House We Love and Cherish Jihyun Kim) experience, please skip these couple branch chapters!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this “AU” of Entanglement, Zhara never slept with Jihyun, although he did come over several times to console her after her run-ins with Jumin. He also, as in the original story, encouraged her to talk to him neutrally. 
> 
> She did go to his house, they did confess their love, and she’s been there for a few days. That is the background of where this 'branch' of the story picks up. 
> 
> This specific chapter is very similar to the original Chapter 8, just removes mention of Jihyun as her alternate love interest.

Zhara sat literally kicking her heels in the bathroom for about ten minutes before her curiosity got the better of her, and she crept out into the bedroom. She didn’t want to eavesdrop, precisely – she wrinkled her nose thinking of the conversations Chairman Han might have with Jumin, it was nothing she was interested in, certainly.

In part, she wanted to confirm there were no raised voices.

But it had also occurred to her – she couldn’t stay locked in the bathroom all day. What if Jumin couldn’t get rid of them? She might be forced to make an appearance. And the best way to do that was to make it seem as if she was just here casually, perhaps meeting Jumin about the RFA, or…his plans for her theater.

Best not to refer to it as _her_ theater in front of the others…

She still hoped to avoid any contact with them, but it was better to be prepared. She pulled her shoes – the same wedge sandals she’d worn on her first date with Jumin – from her bag, and sat down on the bed to put them on.

Elizabeth, who Zhara hadn’t realized had stayed in the bedroom, sidled over to her, and climbed into her lap.

“Hmm, maybe I could stay in here quite a while, if you’re keeping me company,” she whispered to the cat.

“Mrrrp?”

“I have no idea, nor do I want to – I may have gotten past Jumin’s “trust fund kid” exterior but his father is a whole different story, not to mention that woman.”

Elizabeth chirped again, clearly agreeing with her.

That’s when a woman’s voice sounded clearly, just outside the door.

“Is she in here? Oh I do so want to meet her!”

Zhara stood, Elizabeth in her arms, both of them wearing the same “deer in the headlights” expression.

The door practically burst open…and a young woman stood there, cherry red hair hanging in sleek, straight strands around her almost-too-perfect face, much smaller and thinner than Zhara, but with…questionably large assets.

The woman gasped.

Jumin, right behind her, pinched the bridge of his nose.

Elizabeth, having ascertained that she absolutely did not want anything to do with the intruder, promptly launched herself out of Zhara’s arms, and past the crowd at the door.

Her claws left a trio of red lines on Zhara’s arm that quickly began to bleed.

“Who the _hell_ is this _?”_ the newcomer hissed, and Zhara was glad she’d taken a few seconds to come up with a plausible story.

“Miss Kai, allow me to—" Jumin began.

Zhara smiled brightly and cut him off. “I would shake your hand, but it seems you’ve frightened Elizabeth 3rd into injuring me,” she replied with a little laugh. “I’m Zhara Kyoh, I’m a member of the RFA with Jumin, I just came over this morning to—”

“You’re in his bedroom, I think we can guess what you came here for.”

“Might I point out that you, too, are in his bedroom?” Zhara’s barely kept her smile in place when she thought of how wrong – and how right – the woman was. “I merely followed Elizabeth into this room by mistake.” Zhara didn’t look at Jumin as he hurried past her, a pained look on his face, into his bathroom to grab a towel for her arm.

The other woman looked her up and down.

“Zhara. Oh. That _dancer_ ,” she sneered.

Zhara laughed with feigned delight. Miss Kai must have recognized her from the bit of news coverage from the RFA party. “How kind of you to remember who I am, and pay me a compliment all at once. Yes, I am in fact a dancer. And what, exactly, do _you_ do, Miss Kai?”

The woman blinked. “I’m a businesswoman,” she said finally, and Zhara had to choke back a snort. What business was she in, being a half-ass model for plastic surgery?

Jumin came back out with a damp cloth, which she took from him with a brief glance, careful not to meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

“It seems his cat doesn’t care much for you,” Miss Kai mused snidely.

“On the contrary, she was fine until you entered – I wonder why that is?”

“Perhaps she could sense a rival for Jumin’s affections.” The woman literally tossed her hair, her face smug.

She was bold, Zhara had to give her that. She acted as if she already had a claim on Jumin…boy would she be horrified if she knew what claim Zhara already had…

“In any case, I came over to discuss the business plan for a theater that we both have an interest in,” Zhara stated, completely ignoring Miss Kai’s comment. “But if he had a previous appointment with you I apologize, I will reschedule.”

“There is no need for that, Miss Kyoh,” Jumin finally chimed in. “Miss Kai was just leaving.”

Zhara managed to refrain from looking smug, herself, as Jumin escorted her out.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Kai!” she chirped at her adversary’s retreating back.

Fortuitously – or perhaps purposefully – Elizabeth entered the room again just after they left, looking rather contrite.

“Oh hello, Elizabeth!” Zhara cooed loudly. “You’re back! No, don’t worry, I’m not angry…” She snickered under her breath.

She wasn’t about to have a ‘cat’ fight over Jumin, but she also wasn’t going to let some money-grubbing git insult her. Her lips quirked; she felt fairly confident she had won that round, and her wits had barely been called upon.

Miss Kai had better not try to engage her again.

A few minutes later Jumin returned, and he looked such a potent combination of guilty and annoyed that Zhara laughed outright.

“You should see your face, Jumin!” she gasped.

He didn’t seem amused. “Are you alright? I’m surprised you’re cuddling up with Elizabeth again after she injured you.”

Zhara looked down at the ball of fluff in her lap. “Oh, it wasn’t her fault. Anyone could be excused for enacting a little violence after seeing that woman.”

Jumin knelt next to her, running a hand over Elizabeth’s fur absently. “My father and his fiancé,” he said the word with barely disguised disdain, “brought Miss Kai over, and then – if you can imagine – left, trying to leave her here alone with me.”

“My god, I thought your father had a greater sense of etiquette!”

“As did I. I am sorry you had to be subjected to her harassment.”

Zhara shrugged. “I would hardly classify it as such.”

He looked up and met her eyes for the first time since the ‘guests’ had arrived. “I must admit, it was almost…pitiful, watching her.”

“What, because she clearly had designs on you, and you don’t care about women?”

He smiled slightly. “Well, only one.” She blushed and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “But more so…because it was like watching a candle try to compete with a forest fire.”

Zhara blinked. “I’m inclined to take that as a very intense compliment but I’m not sure how much I care for being likened to a natural disaster,” she giggled.

“Well, a bonfire is too small,” Jumin said seriously. “But I suppose you’re only a disaster in terms of my emotionless reputation.”

Her smile softened. “Is it really that bad? Feeling things?”

“Hmm, not bad at all,” he answered, following his words with an embrace that made Elizabeth squeak and jump down lest she be squashed. “I’d like to feel some more things, if you think you can arrange it…”

***

Zhara stayed at Jumin’s for a few more days. Jaehee guessed – from a slip-up on Zhara’s part – where she was, but didn’t put up a fuss; Jumin was actually more productive at work than he had been for weeks.

Zhara secretly felt very flattered by this, but successfully kept her own council in the chat.

He hated leaving her every morning, but she was glad he wasn’t creating a scene by shirking his abilities. And she had her own translation work to catch up on, and also snuck out to the gym – a semi-private one for the residents of the top floors – once a day. Otherwise she sat on the patio as she worked, far above the noise of the city, basking in the sunshine and the cool breeze of an impending autumn.

Mr. Chairman had been dropping hints to Jumin about the girl, Miss Kai, but Jumin merely ignored them all, or deliberately misunderstood his father’s innuendos and suggestions. Zhara hoped to god this would work until Mr. Chairman gave up on whatever harebrained scheme he’d thought up.

In the evenings when Jumin came back, she tried to have some little surprise for him; not because he expected it, but specifically because he didn’t. The first day she’d tried to make cupcakes – she wasn’t terrible in the kitchen, but Jumin’s fancy ingredients in his fancy pantry were not things she was used to, and it didn’t exactly go as planned.

The smoke alarm went off the second he opened the door; when he turned and saw her standing in the kitchen, her face a mask of chagrin, he’d burst out laughing. His security guard came running – Zhara could never be sure whether it was due to the alarm or Jumin’s laughter – and was so stunned he could barely string two words together. Jumin waved him away as he approached the culprit in the kitchen, and the man backed out of the apartment with eyes the size of dinner plates.

She made him laugh several times – not just chuckle, but outright laugh, and she counted herself very proud. She’d never heard him really laugh the whole time she’d known him, but he seemed so much lighter now, as if he’d put down something heavy and now he could move freely.

But just a few days into her visit, Jumin’s smiles ceased.

Mr. Han had invited him to dinner after work; Jumin tried to refuse, but Mr. Chairman asked him point blank if he was avoiding him, so he decided to just get it over with. Zhara was getting a little bored at Jumin’s place, and didn’t exactly relish hanging out for another few hours by herself after having spent several days alone already.  But she didn’t want to interfere in Jumin’s relationship with his father, and even felt a little awkward that he thought he had to ask for her blessing.

Zhara did some halfhearted dance practice on the patio in the late afternoon, then went into the kitchen to attempt yet another dessert. She’d ordered – with her own money, of course – a special type of cherry wine that was supposed to pair well with a certain dessert dish, and she felt confident this time she could take better care and complete her mission without mishap.

She didn’t hear from Jumin almost at all the whole evening; just once to let her know he was on the way home. He didn’t ask about her day – as he’d gotten in the habit of doing as soon as he got off work – but she assumed the dinner might have been a little awkward. She thought of a scenario in which her mother invited her to dinner to discuss her dating life, and wrinkled her nose. Definitely awkward.

But Jumin was more than grumpy when he returned.

She had wine poured for both of them, the little tarts she’d made on a platter on the counter.

She stepped forward to kiss him…

But he walked right past her, and to the cabinet where his liquor was kept.

He poured a glass of whiskey, and Zhara’s eyes widened. She hadn’t seen him drink whiskey since she’d been here…had his dinner gone that badly? His hair was mussed, as if he’d been running his hands through it on the way home…

“…Jumin? Is everything alright?”

He sighed, and finally looked at her. Glanced over at the desserts, the glasses of wine he’d passed by.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, but didn’t approach. She felt a little hurt, but perhaps she shouldn’t have bothered, and would have been smarter to expect the evening to end with Jumin very stressed out…

“It’s fine, but what’s going on?”

“There’s…some trouble. With my father.”

“I assumed.”

“Come over here,” he directed, motioning towards the couch. “And you might want to bring the wine.”

Zhara felt her stomach rolling over. Looking at the wine she’d poured, she decided she’d be better off without drinking something so sweet, if Jumin was about to give her troubling news.

She sat on the edge of the couch, her bare feet sinking into the thick white rug, hugging herself as if against a chill even though she was wearing a sweater dress.

Jumin refilled his glass and came to sit next to her – but not as close as usual. And why did he get a glass of whiskey and she was supposed to drink pink wine? She felt a frisson of annoyance that he apparently though whiskey was a ‘man’s drink’ and didn’t intend to offer her any. But she suppressed it; now wasn’t the time to get nitpicky with him.

“He threatened to disown me,” Jumin said abruptly, and took a generous swallow of his drink.

Zhara gasped. “He…no, Jumin, I can’t—”

“Well he did. He wants me to marry that little strumpet Miss Kai.”

Zhara’s chest contracted painfully, causing her to suck in another breath. “I…”

“I informed him he was being ridiculous. And then he told me that I was damaging the reputation of C&R, and showed me photos – supposedly from a news agency.”

Zhara’s voice shook. “What do you mean, photos?”

“Of us.”

“What, on one of our dates, or…?”

“No.”

“Will you please just tell me! I don’t understand what’s going on!” She lost her composure and nearly yelled at him.

He winced, but drank the rest of his drink before answering. “On the balcony,” he ground out.

Zhara went white. She knew immediately what he meant; a few nights ago they’d gotten a little carried away while outside on the patio. She’d been in a dress, and he, behind her, pushing her into the railing, took full advantage of it – as she’d meant him to, although not necessarily outside…

Oh god. Oh _god_. Now she was sure she would be sick. “Jumin, how—we’re on the 63rd floor! How could they get pictures of it, it must have been—”

“They’re blurry, but they’re real. Don’t worry, you can’t see much…but it’s rather obvious what’s going on. I believe a helicopter was used.”

“A—my god! Who in the hell hires a helicopter to—then again I suppose if the catch is Chairman Han and his son you’d do pretty much anything, wouldn’t you?” She said the last part almost to herself, bitterly.

“I’d wondered if they might be hired…”

“Jumin,” she scolded, exasperated. “Of course they did. Number one, for what purpose would a random news agency toodle around the skies of the city and just happen to take a picture of Jumin Han’s private balcony? Number two, if it was a news agency the pictures would already be circulating.”

She stood up and went to the liquor cabinet herself, not even asking him.

“You’re being blackmailed. And since I assume your father isn’t in on it, so is he.”

Jumin stared at his empty glass. Zhara poured him another, then sipped at her own.

“Your conclusion seems reasonable,” he mused.

She rolled her eyes. Of course it was.

“But the fact remains that my father is taken in by this woman and her…protégé, whoever she is. And his ultimatum still stands – either I do what he tells me, or he cuts me out of the company.”

“Don’t you have a large share in the company yourself? How can he just cut you out, it’s not as if he owns it outright—”

“He told me – clearly coached by his future _wife_ – that once the board found out about my ‘indiscretions’, they would easily vote to divest me of my position.”

Zhara leaned heavily against the wall, a dead weight in the pit of her stomach.

They were silent for a few minutes, until finally Zhara voiced what she assumed they had both already realized.

“I have to go home. I can’t give them any more fodder.”

He stared at her. “No.”

“Jumin, it will just make things worse – I’m already stuck here, and now I’ll have to keep all the curtains closed, I can’t go outside, I’d have to watch out even when going to the gym—”

Suddenly he was in front of her, his hand on the wall beside her head. “You’re not going anywhere, Zhara – if I ever needed you, it’s now—” his other arm went to her waist, and her eyes widened in shock as he slowly pulled up on the hem of her dress. “How am I supposed to…think…if I can’t…”

She was rarely able to resist him, but right now she was so ill at ease, so aware of eyes that might be on them, that it wasn’t even a problem.

“Jumin, stop. They could be watching us, even now—”

He growled, walked over to the wall of windows, and slapped the button that drew the curtains across it.

She set her drink down, started to head to the bedroom to gather her things.

He caught her wrist. “Zhara. Don’t do this to me.”

“Jumin, I’m trying to think of your reputation here! Your business could suffer, your relationship with your father, everything!”

He pulled her closer, holding her arm in a painful grip. “He just wants me to marry her so we can acquire her business. I could just do it on paper…and you could stay…”

She gasped, and with her free hand she drew back and slapped him, the sound ringing out through his cavernous living room, seeming to echo against the walls.

In his shock he let her go, and she hurried to the bedroom, throwing her few clothes and toiletries into her bag in a rush.

Tears pooled in her eyes – she’d thought them past this. She’d been so sure things were so good between them; that they’d never again fall back on this sort of behavior.

But this time, at least, she wasn’t to blame. She had been before, and she knew it. But for Jumin to suggest that she stay at his apartment, like a kept woman…while he married someone else. What must he think of her that he assumed she’d consider such a thing?

Utterly insulting. And it _hurt_.

When she walked back into the living room, he stood near the front door, on his phone. She stuffed her laptop into her bag as well; spared a melancholy glance for the dessert she’d made with such high hopes.

When Jumin turned his eyes toward her, that smoky grey she’d come to love had solidified into the cold steel she’d seen when she first met him. Emotionless Jumin was back.

She sighed, refusing to cry; he didn’t deserve to see how he’d hurt her, not after how he’d behaved.

They waited silently for the chief of security to arrive to escort her back downstairs.

“Zhara…”

“Jumin…I get it,” she said flatly. “You have to be businesslike in order to handle this, I understand.” She turned away, staring resolutely at the front door. “I just…I guess I wish I’d had a little time to prepare.”

“For leaving?” His tone was barely one of mild curiosity.

“No. For you to turn back into the Ice Prince,” she whispered sadly.

They didn’t kiss goodbye; she was too angry, and he was frozen, now, his façade like the smooth broad edge of a knife. She found herself wondering if his ardor could be destroyed so easily – present him with a problem involving his work, his money, and he instantly reverted back to the heartless professional she’d so often argued with when they’d first met.

She didn’t cry until she got into the back of the car, and Driver Kim took off down the road.


	15. Chapter 9 **BRANCH** - "Jumin Route"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***DANGER***IMPORTANT*** This chapter BRANCHES OFF from the main story! Please beware before you read on!
> 
> This is sort of where I originally intended this fic to go when I first started writing, but as so often happens, the characters got away from me and it went in a totally different direction. BUT I still kind of had this idea so I wanted to put it out there, especially for those who are big Jumin fans. Not to mention it seems to kind of make sense to have another 'route' sort of like in the game. But if you don't want to ruin the continuity of your Entanglement (aka In This House We Love and Cherish Jihyun Kim) experience, please skip these couple branch chapters!!

Back in her apartment, she fussed over her little plant, hoping the few days without water hadn’t damaged it, but it seemed okay. She hummed a song in her head over and over, refusing to think.

She logged into the chat room, unwilling to say anything personal, but wanting to let the others know that Jumin was having issues.

For a moment she missed Seven’s bright, ridiculous jokes; she could use his silliness right now, to distract her from the pain that had lodged itself in her chest.

But he and Saeran were off rediscovering brotherhood or something, and she took a moment to send a little blessing their way. After all that had happened to both of them, they certainly deserved some happiness. She hoped they’d find it.

Jaehee and Zen were online.

_“You guys…I can’t give details, it’s not my place to, but Jumin…”_

_“What did he do now?”_ Zen was already using bold font. _“Did he mess with you somehow? Are you okay?”_

_“I’m fine, Zen, calm down.”_

_“I’m glad to hear you are okay, Zhara, but what’s happened?”_ Jaehee asked calmly. Zhara smiled thinking how perfect those two were for each other…if they’d only truly admit it and stop dancing around.

_“Something happened with Jumin and his father, and he’s very upset. So please just keep that in mind if you speak to him.”_

_“What, did his rich dad yank the silver spoon out of his mouth or something?”_

Zhara sighed. _“Seriously, Zen, stop.”_

_“Zen, I think this is not the time to be joking.”_

_“Sorry, fine. But the Trust Fund Kid’s seemed so laid back lately, what could have happened to upset him?”_

Zhara squeezed her eyes shut. _“Like I said, I’ll let Jumin reveal details if he wants to. I imagine Jaehee will hear about it one way or another, but I’d rather not give out his personal business.”_

 _“Zhara…are you still…”_ She knew what Jaehee was asking, and she definitely didn’t want Zen catching wind of where she’d been, or she’d be subject to an entire page of huge text and angry emojis.

_“No.”_

_“I see.”_

_“Uhh I don’t see, lol,”_ Zen interjected.

_“Jaehee, just…good luck tomorrow, there might be some…difficulties at the office.”_

_“Thank you for warning me.”_

_“Why would there be—you know what, never mind, I don’t even care. As long as you’re okay Zhara I don’t care what happens with him.”_

_“That’s not very nice to say, Zen, I thought you two had loosened up towards each other recently?”_ Bless Jaehee for being so gently remonstrative when Zen got out of hand…

Zen posted several emojis in a row. _“Alright, alright, I hope he’s okay too, are you ladies happy? Ugh.”_

 _“I’m sure he’s fine.”_ Zhara hesitated before typing the rest. _“I bet he’ll be back to his normal self soon.”_

She signed out after Jaehee promised to let her know what the situation was the next day at C&R.

Then she called Jihyun.

# ***

“I’m very surprised that he reverted to his worst behavior over this, even if he is very anxious about it…after how much he’s changed recently.”

She’d known she could count on Jihyun to listen to her, console her, even though she felt silly, laying such problems before him. After all the times she’d sworn she was giving up her unhealthy relationship with Jumin…but Jihyun had encouraged her to make up with him, to have a serious conversation, and even to stay with him, when he’d asked her to.

She knew he would understand.

“I can’t do this, Jihyun. I can’t deal with this, every time something comes up he just turns into this mountain of ice.”

“I don’t blame you. And I don’t want to encourage you to shelve your own needs for him – that’s not fair. But perhaps the way you helped him open up is just too new, maybe over time you can help him learn how to deal with these situations.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, thinking. “I just…I don’t think I can fathom that right now. It hurts too much—” she put her hand over the phone for a second and took a few breaths. She couldn’t keep the tears contained, but she could keep from sobbing while on the phone.

“Zhara…there’s nothing wrong with crying in this situation, you needn’t hide it from me.”

She gave a watery chuckle. “I hate how you can do that.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I should just stop trying to hide things from you.”

“Zhara, will you be okay? I’m covered in paint but I can clean up and come over – or you could come here…”

“What, to your place? No, that’s okay, I don’t want to disrupt you—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Aside from Jumin you’re my closest friend – and believe me I don’t really want _him_ over right now. In fact, I’ve been wanting to ask you for a favor for a while…”

“What favor?”

“You’ll have to come visit me to find out.”

She snorted, her tears finally drying – for the moment at least. “That’s sneaky. But fine – if you’re sure you don’t mind, I could use the company for a bit.”

“I’m sure. I’ll text you the address. Oh, and there’s a huge studio here, so you can bring your dance things if you want.”

“Okay. And…thank you, Jihyun. I hope you know how much I appreciate you.”

“You’ve helped me through darker times than this, Z. But you’re welcome.”

***

Zhara had never been to Jihyun’s house – even when they’d spent quite a bit of time together after the incident with Rika, it was always somewhere else. ‘Her theater’, sometimes the apartment, sometimes the park. She got the feeling back then that he didn’t want to be home. To be constantly reminded of another time, in which he’d been happy periodically but also endured consistent emotional turbulence and abuse.

She didn’t even know he’d sold it, until he gave her his address. She vaguely remembered the previous street name from the work she’d been doing for the party, and this didn’t match up.

After she got into her car, she plugged the info into the map on her phone, set it on the console, and took off.

Her thoughts drifted during the drive; focusing, no matter how often she tried to direct them otherwise, on her relationship with Jumin, and what had occurred yesterday.

She felt simultaneously dirty – violated that someone had been watching them – and ashamed that there’d been something to watch. Her confidence in front of Miss Kai had been strong at the time because of her burgeoning relationship with Jumin, but now…now that the rose colored glasses were gone, she could see herself more clearly.

She might not have let him buy her any clothes, or pay her bills, but if Miss Kai wanted to call her a strumpet, was she wrong? Was Chairman Han wrong for telling Jumin his reputation was at risk, because of this nobody he was seeing?

Her heart ached when she recalled Jumin’s face. He hadn’t even considered how she might feel about it. She thought back to his concern for her reputation, on their first date, when they’d kissed on the bridge.

A sweet, passionate moment that she’d cut short because she didn’t want his name to be damaged. He’d assured her he had every care for her ‘honor’…and reiterated that when she’d gone with him to the book shop.

But where was that care now?

She understood that his father was important to him – she might not have a close relationship with her mother (nor the father she didn’t even know), but she admired Jumin’s strong family ties.

But family ties didn’t mean he should forsake her entirely. Forget any harm that might come to her as a result of this fiasco.

And then suggest…that he might…

That he might have a wife, and just fuck Zhara on the side.

Zhara squeezed her eyes shut, brows drawn together as she fought to keep tears, of anger and of betrayal, at bay.

She reached Jihyun’s house – marked with a large, beautiful wooden gate – and called him to let him know she’d arrived. The gate opened, and she drove down a long drive lined with thick forest.

The house wasn’t large, but it was truly beautiful – a two-story craftsman style cottage with a main building and then a slightly smaller wing to the right. Both buildings were positively full of windows.

“That’s the studio,” he explained, nodding to the smaller building. “Just one big room where I do my painting.”

“Wow…amazing that you could find a place so well suited to what you needed!”

“Yes, I was lucky,” he agreed as he moved forward to carry her overnight bag into the house.

The inside was just as attractive as the exterior – wood paneling and floors, stone accents, warm lights. Little rectangles of stained glass topped all the windows.

Zhara couldn’t help but feel the contrast between this place and Jumin’s elegant but cold penthouse.

“Jumin could use your decorator,” she mumbled a bit bitterly.

Jihyun chuckled. “To be fair, I’m not really responsible for any of this; almost everything was here when I got it.”

“I still think you’d do better than a slick black and white bachelor pad,” she insisted scathingly. “You are an artist, after all.”

“What, you don’t like Jumin’s “ice castle” aesthetic?” Jihyun asked innocently.

Zhara rolled her eyes so hard she thought she might give herself a headache. She knew she was being petty because she was upset with Jumin, but it was true that his place was all expense, and style, and no…feeling.

Jihyun showed her around the house – 3 little bedrooms upstairs, a gorgeous if rather wild back yard, and then the studio. As she admired the glass ceiling – the timing perfect to see it casting gorgeous golden squares on the floor – she put her hands on her hips.

“Alright Jihyun, don’t think I forgot – what’s this favor you wanted?”

“I should have known you’d get right to that…”

“I gave you a whole thirty minutes,” she pouted.

“Fair enough. Alright, so as you can see the previous owners had this set up to be the dance studio – I believe their children took ballet.”

She nodded, glancing at the barre in the back...she would definitely like to dance while she was here, she hadn’t in over two weeks…

“Well, I can only paint so much still-life, and portraits, and things. So I was wondering if you’d let me paint you, while you dance.”

She blinked. This was hardly what she’d expected…

“You…want to paint _me_?”

“Why do you say it like that? You don’t like the idea?”

“No, it’s not that, I just…wouldn’t you rather…I mean I’m no Degas ballerina,” she laughed nervously.

“Great, I’m no Degas,” he deadpanned, and she had to laugh outright at that.

“Fine, but Jihyun, wouldn’t you rather have someone more…I don’t know. I don’t think you realize what kind of dance I do. I mean I wouldn’t be out there doing plie’s in a tutu…”

His brow creased ever so slightly, and she sensed she’d insulted him, even if he didn’t say so.

“I don’t intend to copy someone’s art who painted women over a hundred years ago, Z. I asked you because I want to paint _you_ , not some outmoded fantasy of a ballet dancer.”

She looked down, abashed. “Sorry. I…I’m honored that you would ask me. I’m just afraid I won’t be a great subject for a piece of art.” She was normally pretty confident, but recent events had shaken her a bit. She didn’t feel proud of anything she’d done recently, and as a result she didn’t think her art was worth recording, in any form.

“Zhara…” Jihyun closed the space between them and enfolded her in a hug. As if a switch had been turned, she abruptly began to cry; she didn’t want to pour all this out on him, but he was so nice, so comforting, it was impossible not to.

“The way he looked at me, Jihyun, like I was…just an object that he’d acquired,” she mumbled between sobs as he patted her hair. “Like that pen his father gave him, but at least that had sentimental value!”

“I’m so sorry, Z, I wish there was more I could do but you won’t let me talk to him—”

“You’re doing enough,” she insisted, voice breaking. “You’re here for me, because you’re a good friend, and I love you for it.”

He sighed heavily. Stood there until she pulled away, wiping her eyes. He looked around and grabbed a fresh painter’s rag from a table, and she chuckled as she applied it to her face.

“I hope you don’t let what he did affect how you feel about yourself,” he said seriously as he took the scrap of cloth back from her.

She shrugged. “I know I shouldn’t. But I just feel like…I’m turning into my mother.”

Jihyun knew her history. He shook his head. “You didn’t intend to love him, Zhara. It just happened. And from what I can tell he’s better when he’s with you.”

“You say it like it’s present tense.” Her chin rose a fraction of an inch. “It’s not.”

Jihyun stared at her for a moment. “As you say, Z. If you’re determined to end it, I can’t blame you, after everything that’s happened.”

“But.” She said it with finality, knowing there was something else he wanted to say.

“But I think you might regret it if you just leave things like this.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s not talk about that anymore, I came here to be distracted. Let’s watch something ridiculous so I can laugh until I cry and not think about it?”


	16. Chapter 10 **BRANCH** - "Jumin Route"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***DANGER***IMPORTANT*** This chapter BRANCHES OFF from the main story! Please beware before you read on!
> 
> This is sort of where I originally intended this fic to go when I first started writing, but as so often happens, the characters got away from me and it went in a totally different direction. BUT I still kind of had this idea so I wanted to put it out there, especially for those who are big Jumin fans. Not to mention it seems to kind of make sense to have another 'route' sort of like in the game. But if you don't want to ruin the continuity of your Entanglement (aka In This House We Love and Cherish Jihyun Kim) experience, please skip these couple branch chapters!!

She’d asked Jihyun if he minded her using the studio when he wasn’t there, and he promised it was available to her at any time, whether he was there or not.

She was up at 5 a.m. after a night with almost no sleep. She hadn’t slept the night before, either, at her apartment, and she was running on fumes.

But she felt her pain buzzing through her as if all her molecules were vibrating. She’d almost never been this distraught – when her last company manager had kicked her out was the only time she could remember that was worse.

She had to dance.

She turned on her phone to a random streaming station that had rather emotional music but not too depressing – she had to have a tempo fast enough for dancing. She quickly found the Bluetooth link for the speakers in the studio, and turned the music up, safe in the knowledge that the building was separate and she wouldn’t wake Jihyun.

She warmed up as some breakup song played, rolling her eyes as cliché lyrics about broken hearts played over a quick, heavy baseline. At least she wasn’t usually bothered by the common ‘sad songs’ – she normally found them too trite to be effective. At the same time, she was in no mood to listen to anything upbeat.

As the third song came on, she recognized one she actually liked; there was a video on MeTube of some people dancing to it, that she was a fan of.

But as she started actually dancing, her warmup over, she realized she had never actually listened to the words.

Her heart began to ache as she paid closer attention, halfheartedly moving around the room, pausing periodically when a line hit her in the gut like a punch.

As the song wound down she walked to her phone and hit the repeat button.

It did hurt, a lot. But she could channel that pain. She felt something deep inside, the music and the words combining to ring a chord in her chest that she would use to create.

_I wanted it, I wanted it bad  
            But there were so many red flags_

She felt a tear run down her face, but she ignored it. Her  movements were angry, loud, powerful. As the song played over and over, she began to build a routine. The sun came up behind thick clouds as she danced, slowly bathing the space in a fuzzy, cool light.

She would use this. This hurt would be good for something, one day. She would be so proud if she could turn the thing that Jumin had done to her into a success. If she could use this pain to heal herself, as confusing as that seemed.

_And I know that I can survive  
           I’ll walk through fire to save my life_

She cried out in anger as she pounded the floor before bouncing back up, hands in her hair. She used the walls , the floor, the barre, the mirror, fought with herself, pushed herself away.

Jihyun came in much later, and though he didn’t mention the song being on repeat, he had to have noticed, because he waited until she paused it to take a break and drink some water. He came in with coffee; she accepted it gratefully.

“You can have the space to yourself today, unless you want company,” he told her, grabbing his sketchbook.

“Jihyun…if you want...” she paused, a little self-conscious, but after she took a sip of coffee she continued. “I wouldn’t let just anyone watch this, but…if you want to paint me, or whatever, I’m feeling pretty raw right now, which might be…good for…” she shrugged, not sure how to explain that in this mood, all her emotions were on display, and if he wanted to capture that, this was the best time to do it.

He immediately set his cup down and uncovered his easel. “I appreciate you trusting me, Zhara. And yes, I would love to.” He looked up as she walked back towards the other end of the room. “Would you…be okay with me filming some of it? In case I need stills for reference later?”

She stopped, staring at her reflection in the wall of mirrors. _Was_ she okay with that?

She nodded. “Actually, it might be good for me to critique myself later.”

“Okay, don’t mind me, I’ll be as unobtrusive as possible.”

She sighed with a little smile. _Don’t worry, I can’t mind much right now, I’m sure I’ll forget you’re even there…._

He grabbed his camera from in the corner and quickly set it up; she waited a few seconds for him to get it ready and then hit play again on her phone.

Immediately, as she anticipated, she forgot his presence. Forgot everything, really, except moving, and hurting, and expressing.

After the third run of the song, even she was beginning to tire, having danced practically without rest for several hours. She ended the song on her knees, head down, chest heaving, hands balled into fists. She forced herself to relax and hurried to the phone to pause the music; she didn’t want to get caught up again, she had to stop for now.

But when the music went silent, she heard something else, and whipped around to see Jihyun sitting cross-legged against the wall amongst his art things, wiping his eyes.

She ran to kneel in front of him. “Jihyun? What’s wrong?” She put took one of his hands between both of hers.

He half-laughed. “Sorry, I’m…being artsy,” he said with a shadow of a smile.

“Don’t apologize, but is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…it just made me a little emotional, I guess,” he explained, not looking at her.

“Oh. Well…not that I want you to feel bad – and certainly not as bad as I do lately – but if you’re this affected I have to say I take it as a compliment.”

He looked up then. “You do?” He stood, and she rose with him.

“My goal is to make you feel something – if I did that, then…mission accomplished, I guess? But…you’re my best friend, I don’t want to make you sad, so I’m a little torn.”

He’d ducked into the little half bath at the front of the room for a tissue, and he smiled a little as he came out, his eyes still red but looking more composed. “I’m alright, I think I just…tend to…over-show my feelings about things, now, because I had to be so careful for so long. Like I can’t really control it yet.”

He blew out a puff of air when Zhara threw her arms around his waist. She made a noise like a growl.

“You can cry as much as you like,” she mumbled, “Yell, scream, whatever you want, okay? I am here for you and all your feelings, modulated or otherwise.”

He chuckled. “Thank you, Zhara. I don’t intend to do any screaming but if I need to I’ll let you know.”

She beamed at him and finally let him go. “Fair enough. Now, you want to make lunch? I’m starving.”

***  
  
The next few days she practiced regularly in the studio – sometimes Jihyun painted along with her, sometimes not. She stopped listening to the song on repeat, although she did go back to it more than once every day.

She and Jihyun watched movies together at night, ordered Chinese food, talked about random things, college, old jobs. It was calming, comforting, quiet. Zhara needed that peace.

Jumin had texted her a few times. She started to read the first couple messages, but when they didn’t contain an immediate air of contrition and shame, she started deleting them. She was afraid that she would waver because of her feelings for him, give him a pass when what he really needed to do was enact a monumental apology lasting weeks, months, years. She’d forgiven him quickly after their first unfortunate encounter – although to be fair she’d mostly done that because of her own confusing behavior afterwards – and this time she would not make the same mistake.

She wished she could ask Seven to block Jumin’s number from her phone, but he wasn’t around at the moment, and it probably wasn’t possible anyway. So any time she got a message from him, she resolutely avoided looking at it, and deleted their entire message history without even opening their dialogue.

Jaehee had informed her that things had indeed been chaotic at the office, and had been giving updates on anything she thought the others might need to know. She texted Zhara a few times, but Zhara professed an absolute disinterest in knowing more about Jumin than anyone else. Jaehee was free to text her, she said, but only if it was about herself and Zen.

Naturally Jaehee denied that there could ever be any reason to do this. Zhara rolled her eyes.

She’d been at Jihyun’s a few days when she got a text from Jaehee saying that Jumin urgently wanted to reach her, and that she’d finally told him where she was. Zhara sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had no idea what Jumin would do with that information, but it was only her problem if he called Jihyun and tried to yell at him about it, or if he came out here.

She told Jaehee she’d call him soon, and hopped into the shower.

***  
  
Now that Zhara had gone upstairs to shower – she’d be in there for an hour, her showers were long – Jihyun knew he had some time where he could listen to the song, watch her performance on his laptop, and paint. He’d done so many sketches; she’d seen one or two, ones he didn’t mind showing her, but not the really good ones. Not the ones that made him hurt.

He hoped she would like the painting, though; he might end up doing more, a series – maybe this was what he’d start his exhibitions with…

He worked on the light source in the painting, trying to capture the way the sun filtered through the ceiling and illuminated the muted-flame halo of Zhara’s hair.

He was more than happy with his decision to paint her, grateful beyond measure that she’d let him. He knew instinctively that this was some of his best work, and it wasn’t that his skill had magically just improved. It was the subject.

A noise issued from the gate to the property; he didn’t hear, the music echoing through the studio muffled any sounds from outside.

Didn’t hear when the front door to the studio opened. Was just putting his brush down when his eye caught the ghost of movement in the mirrors far across the room.

He turned to find Jumin in the doorway.

He wasn’t looking at Jihyun – he couldn’t take his eyes off the computer screen, Zhara’s fluid but forceful motions across the dance floor, her expression of anguish. Jihyun reached over to pause it – she hadn’t given him permission to show it to anyone. He had no idea how much Jumin had seen…

But the music still played; it was going on Zhara’s phone, which she’d left on the table across the room, and he hadn’t gotten up to stop it yet. Didn’t want to.

Jumin’s face grew darker and darker as he listened; brow lowered, nostrils flared, lips compressed into a thin line. Finally he dragged his eyes away from the laptop – an image of Zhara bent over backwards, hair brushing the floor, in the middle of one of her more acrobatic moves.

He saw the painting. He sucked in a breath, and put a hand to his chest. Jihyun was shocked that he seemed so affected by it; granted, if he loved Zhara then a painting of her dancing would be very—

“Fuck you, Jihyun. How dare you!”

Jihyun backed up a step, shocked that the first words out of his friend’s mouth would be an accusation. “She gave me permission to paint her, Jumin.”

“And what else did she give you permission for?” he practically shouted.

“Jumin, calm down! She came here because you hurt her, and she wanted to get away and relax. Not that you deserve for me to reassure you, but—”

“Don’t you think I know what I did, Jihyun? Do you think I’m stupid?” Now his voice was low, shaking. “I’ve been trying to talk to her ever since she left, tell her what a fool I’ve been, but she wouldn’t answer me. And now I know why.”

“You don’t know anything, Jumin. There’s nothing between us,” he replied, his voice toneless. He walked over to the other side of the room, hit the pause button on Zhara’s phone. The sudden silence was deafening.

Jumin stared at him. Abruptly he sort of…deflated. He leaned against the wall, looked back at Jihyun’s work, a shadow of deep sadness creeping over his face.

“I guess that makes two of us,” he said softly, eyes mapping the light and shadows on Zhara’s face in the painting.

Jihyun looked at him in confusion. Then back at the painting.

Reality dawned on him slowly. His eyes widened, cheeks flushed. But then he sighed heavily.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it.” It was a statement, not a question.

“It is, but how can I blame you?” He tore his eyes away from Zhara’s features to gaze at his friend, his steely eyes now somber, almost soft. “You deserve her more than I, you know.”

“Don’t say that, Jumin. None of that matters – she doesn’t love me.”

“How can she come here, and be around you, after the way I treated her, and _not_ love you?”

Jihyun stared at him in shock. “I…”

“You know, I want very badly to tell you that you should let her know,” Jumin breathed harshly. “Confess. But I can’t, I can’t do that, because I’m not like you, Jihyun. There was never a selfless bone in my body, not for people. If I have any now, only one person owns them all. And I’m sorry for that.”

Jihyun sighed. “Jumin – even if she did know, it wouldn’t matter. You saw her. Dancing. That wasn’t for me.”

“If you’re trying to rub my face in the fact that I caused her so much pain you’re doing a great job.”

“I’m not—listen, Jumin. If you do this right you can still fix this.” He stepped closer. “What you suspect is true, but I can’t…I can’t do anything about it. Not now. And I don’t know when or if I ever could. So you don’t have to worry about me.”

Jumin’s gaze was suddenly hollow. “You’re not ready.”

Jihyun shook his head sadly. “I want to be – god you have no idea.” He ran his hand through his hair. “But it wouldn’t be fair to her. So please, I’m begging you, Jumin, fix this. You have to fix this.”

Jumin pushed away from the wall. “Where is she.”

“She’s upstairs, but don’t just go—”

“Don’t worry, Jihyun.” His eyes still melancholy, he stepped forward to take his friend by the hand. “I’ll do my best. And…I’m sorry.”

Jihyun just shook his head, and went into the bathroom to wash up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand here's the song, which I have been listening to on repeat for personal reasons, and I'm not linking the dance video here because I know some people have problems with it so I'll just link a lyrics version. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RYY0hwHIRw


	17. Chapter 11 **BRANCH** - "Jumin Route"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***DANGER***IMPORTANT*** This chapter BRANCHES OFF from the main story! Please beware before you read on!
> 
> This is sort of where I originally intended this fic to go when I first started writing, but as so often happens, the characters got away from me and it went in a totally different direction. BUT I still kind of had this idea so I wanted to put it out there, especially for those who are big Jumin fans. Not to mention it seems to kind of make sense to have another 'route' sort of like in the game. But if you don't want to ruin the continuity of your Entanglement (aka In This House We Love and Cherish Jihyun Kim) experience, please skip these couple branch chapters!!

Zhara finished blowing her hair dry – not straight, as Jumin had so strongly indicated he liked it, but a little tamed from its natural wild state. When she turned off the hair dryer, she thought she heard a creak on the stair. She hung her towels up and left the bathroom, walking a little past her bedroom door to glance down the stairs.

Her heart practically seized up; she sucked in a breath, recognizing immediately who sat at the bottom of the steps, his elbows on his knees.

How had he gotten here so fast… she hoped to god he and Jihyun hadn’t had an argument, he had no right to—

He stood, and slowly turned.

His expression made her heart physically hurt, and she cursed it for being so weak, easily manipulated. Of course he was sad; he’d lost his trophy. Or whatever she was to him.

“What are you doing here?” She barely made a question out of it.

“You…wouldn’t answer me. So I came to…apologize.” He stared at her as if he wanted to consume every facet of her appearance, drink in the curves of her face.

“I don’t know that apologies are going to cut it this time, Jumin,” she answered coldly, although it cost her much to do so. “But first, tell me – how is Miss Kai?”

Jumin flinched. Her nostrils flared, chin trembled, but she controlled herself.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen her.”

Well, according to him, he barely did have to see her, if they were just going to have a marriage of convenience. “Well, did you decide if you’d accede to your father’s demands?”

He took a step up the stairs. She would not back down; she was still above him, and she had to retain this imagined position of power, or her ability to refuse him might be diminished…

“Zhara…”

“You can’t answer me?”

“Yes. I decided.”

“Well then. There’s nothing more to be said, is there?” She tried so hard to maintain a flippant tone of voice, but she wasn’t sure she succeeded.

He took another step. He was two steps below her now; god above she could smell…his cologne…

“Zhara, I said I came to apologize, but I need to tell you something first.”

She remained silent – didn’t trust herself to speak, really, with his eyes gone back to that swirling smoke she loved so much…

“I…I’m no longer the Director of C&R.”

She blinked. Opened her mouth. Closed it. She was completely thrown off, unsure what to say.

“W-what?”

“I don’t work for my father’s company any more. I took some of my personal projects and bought out a few of the startups and created my own entity.”

She blinked rapidly, eyes huge. “You…you _quit_??” She couldn’t even comprehend the enormity of this. “But….but Jumin, that was a family company, how could you just—”

“In my considered opinion, the management of the company has been compromised. There were only two paths open to me – try to declare my father unfit, or branch off on my own. The latter seemed infinitely preferable.”

For a moment Zhara forgot herself. She lifted a hand to his face. “Are you…are you okay?”

His eyes squeezed shut, and he leaned into her hand. She tried to snatch it away, but he covered it with his. “Please, don’t—”

“Jumin, I don’t understand, why? Why would you do such a drastic thing?”

He opened his eyes, dark and pensive. “Don’t you know, Zhara?”

She gasped. “I…Jumin, no, you can’t tell me that you…that you left your company because…”

“I _am_ telling you, but please let me make it clear that the responsibility is not yours. Even if you…” he swallowed and looked away. “Even if you refuse to see me again, this choice is mine, and I will own it – I will never…blame you for anything that’s happened. You got caught in an unfortunate family disagreement that got way out of hand, and I will never forgive myself for how I treated you. But I just need you to…to know…”

He took a deep breath, and she could see his own anguish all over his face.

“Jumin…”

Her tone of voice recalled his eyes to her face. “Zhara?”

“Please… _please_ make it a good apology.” She slowly slid her arms around his neck, and she saw a shine in his eyes before he crushed her against him.

“I promise,” he whispered brokenly into her hair. “ _God_ , I promise…”

“I can’t…I can’t do this again, Jumin. It hurts too much, I can’t—”

“I know, my love, I know.”

Her arms tightened around him as the tears finally ran down her face.

She didn’t see Jihyun come to check on them, and stand for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, a sad ghost of a smile on his face, before he quietly backed away.

# ***

They sat on the little bed in the room she’d been sleeping in – it seemed incongruous, out of place, for them to have such a serious conversation here, in what had clearly been a child’s bedroom, the door shut. But they both felt too guilty – for very different reasons – to risk Jihyun walking in on their discussion.

“Wait, is Driver Kim outside, waiting? We can talk later, I don’t want to—”

“He’s not here.”

“Did someone else drive you?”

He gave a humorless chuckle. “I _can_ drive, Zhara.”

“You drove yourself? But why?”

“Driver Kim works for C&R, not for me. Not anymore, anyway.”

She blinked. “You’re telling me you quit and Driver Kim didn’t just leave with you?” She had a hard time believing his ultra-reliable driver would just abandon him.

He shrugged. “I insisted he stay with the company. There’s a chance mine might fail, and I don’t want him to be without a job.”

Zhara stared at him, but didn’t trust herself to question him further about this. He was…being _that_ considerate of his employees, when she wasn’t even around?

“Did you…talk to Jihyun, before I saw you?”

He absently stroked her hand, which he held between both of his; the action was so hesitant, so unlike him, it made her chest ache all over again.

“Yes. We spoke, he knows I’m here.”

She nodded, not really wanting to get into details. Jumin was a closer friend to Jihyun than she; their interaction was none of her business, considering it didn’t seem to have ended in an argument.

Jumin still didn’t look up. “Jaehee is working on discrediting Miss Kai; she seems to have a rather shady past and even more shady credit history. If we can prove she’s acting with ill intent perhaps at least my father and I can…reconcile.”

With her free hand she touched his hair, pushed it back from his face. She knew he cherished his relationship with his father, and that Chairman Han’s initial ultimatum had hit him in one his few weak spots. His love for his family.

“Do you think you’ll…go back to C&R, if everything can get resolved?”

He shook his head, and finally raised his eyes to hers. “No. What’s done is done, and I can’t take it back. Zhara…”

She tilted her head at his change in tone.

He cleared his throat. “I know you don’t care much for my wealth, and lifestyle.”

“I…don’t love everything about it, I suppose, no.”

“But I would consider it dishonest to make you think I still have the same means as I used to. You should know that I had to use a lot of my private funds to facilitate this business venture, so I…I’ll likely be selling the penthouse. Also as I said before things are in no way guaranteed to succeed so there’s a possibility I may end up with very little. Not nothing, of course, I’ve taken precautions against that, but—”

“Jumin, are you telling me that you’re no longer filthy rich?”

“I…suppose that is what I’m saying, yes.”

He barely got the words out of his mouth before she covered it with hers, and he made a little noise of surprise before leaning into her, almost desperately.

She’d forgotten how he tasted… _god_ …

His lips were so soft, his hands so possessive as they encircled her back. But not just that – his movements were needy, almost begging her to come closer, to never take the succor of her kisses away.

But finally she had to take a proper breath. She smiled as she pressed her cheek to his, and he raised one hand to cradle the back of her head.

“It seems you do not disapprove.”

She laughed – truly laughed, and she felt a bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders.

“Jumin, I loved you despite your money, not because of it, you have to know that.”

“I suppose I did, but…”

“I know, it’s difficult for you to be in such a drastically altered position.”

He nodded.

“I’ll do what I can to help you adjust…although I somehow get the feeling your “reduced circumstances” still amount to more wealth than I’m used to,” she joked softly.

“I kept the theater,” he said abruptly.

She leaned back; he loosened his hold to let her.

“You…still have the same plans for it?”

“I do, and I was hoping…that you would help me. That you would run it. If…if you want to, that is.”

Her mouth fell open, and she didn’t speak for a second or two. “Jumin…I…”

But suddenly it hit her that while all his words had been music to her ears – some surprising, some downright shocking, but no less heartening – there was one thing missing from their conversation.

He had yet to actually apologize for anything. Was he just…holding out offerings of peace, as if they’d argued on equal footing? She didn’t want to think so, but she had to be sure.

“Jumin…”

He immediately sensed her changed mood, and sat up a little straighter.

“You’re angry with me.”

She shook her head. “I just…before we talk any more about the future, I need to understand the past. We have to talk about it.”

“Of course, I’m sorry if I…” He sighed. “I should have started off with that.”

She offered the ghost of a smile. “I asked, you answered. But…”

“No, you’re right. I…”

He ran a hand through his hair before meeting her eyes again. “There is no apology that is good enough, Zhara. I think we both know that. I was very…hurt, I suppose, by my father’s actions—”

“You suppose?” she said a little drily, and his mouth quirked slightly.

“Of course I was. As you know, my relationship with my father has always been good, despite his repeated…confusion over women. What he asked of me, and the way he asked it, was completely outside my experience with him, and I was…shocked. I had no idea how to react. But I still don’t understand why I said…”

Zhara was shocked to see him take a shaky breath, as if barely containing his emotions.

“The insult I offered you was, frankly, unforgivable. As was the…insinuation that your importance to me was based on our physical relationship. And though I hate to admit it, I would not blame you if you…decided that you cannot, in fact, forgive it.”

She was silent for a moment; he searched her eyes, desperate for some sign of how she’d taken his words.

“I appreciate that you understand how much you hurt me, Jumin.” She looked down, noticed she’d pulled the arms of her sweater over her hands. She twisted the fabric between her fingers as she continued. “But you have to promise me, in absolute terms, in a way that I can believe without a doubt, that you won’t…shut down, like that. Again.”

“Zhara I swear to you—”

“Jumin, wait.”

He closed his mouth abruptly.

“Don’t just…say it. Think about it, seriously. What if…what if something happens with the theater? What if someone wants to buy it, for instance, and we disagree about whether to sell it, and you think I’m being absolutely unreasonable over it? I don’t _want_ to fight with you, Jumin, about anything, but we said it already, it’s going to happen. It happens in any relationship, but especially with us…you and I are too…opinionated to avoid it.”

He was staring at the floor, intent concentration putting a little crease between his brows.

“And I’m okay with that, I am. As long as I know that you won’t just…turn off on me. Shut me out, treat me like I’m worth nothing to you. I have to _know_ , Jumin.”

He raised his eyes again, turbulent seas of emotion in the grey depths. “I can only promise I’ll try, Zhara. It would be dishonest for me to say I understand completely why I acted the way I did, because I don’t. And that’s the only way I can be sure I’ll never come close to such behavior again.”

She sighed. She appreciated his honesty, but…

“I think I can avoid doing so, Zhara, if…if you help me. Can you do that? If you see that I’m acting cold…don’t just leave. Make me think about what I’m doing. That’s what you’ve always done for me, and that’s part of why I love you. You made me change, made me look at things differently. If you can keep doing that, I’ll get better at this, that I can promise.”

His request for her help meant almost more to her than the apology. That he would so sincerely ask her for that…he already was getting better at this. At love. At their relationship.

And she wasn’t perfect – she had things to work on as well.

She put her hand to his face, and again he covered it with his, a desperate question in his eyes.

She kissed him; long, and sweet, and deep.

“I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is most likely the end of the Jumin "AU"...I could go into more detail about what happens after but I think enough has been said. Hope you enjoyed this...fanfic of a fanfic, haha.
> 
> PS....Jumin broke JIhyun's gate. Some things never change.


End file.
